


Shelter You

by ironxprince



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Human Trafficking, Hurt Peter Parker, Kid Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironxprince/pseuds/ironxprince
Summary: Peter's heard stories about the man in expensive clothes for as long as he'd been bought and sold at auction houses (essentially his entire life). He bought slaves, he bought children, and they were never seen again. Now, the man in expensive clothes was back... and he had just bought Peter.Rated teen for human trafficking and implications of mistreatment toward minors. No graphic details.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark
Comments: 148
Kudos: 443





	1. The Man in Expensive Clothes

Peter didn’t know how long he’d been waiting.

The auction had ended a while ago. He’d been bought; he always was. Bought, used as a slave, forced to work.

Tortured. Experimented on. Traumatized.

It never got any easier. But this was how it always was, wasn’t it? He was bought, used, sold again, an endless loop of tragedy and suffering. He had stopped looking, stopped paying attention. Stopped caring. Every time they led him to the stage by the rope around his neck, every time they forced him to kneel and tied his hands behind his back, he kept his head down. Every time the buyers walked through the rows upon rows of too-small cages filled with slaves, slaves like himself, he was compliant. Head down. On his hands and knees. Crawling toward the bars when buyers called his number, urged him closer like a dog. Allowing them to pat his head, pull at his hair, caress his cheek, slap him.

They were the basic rules he had set for himself. Don’t look, don’t speak, don’t act out of turn. Eyes down. Compliant. Be a good little boy. Live to see another day.

He didn’t look up when his cage door was opened earlier that day, when someone stepped in and tied a rope around his neck just a little too tight, when he was instructed to put his hands behind his back and his wrists were bound together, when he was led onto the stage.

When lights shone in his face, too big and too bright. When he was forced to his knees, and fingers carded through his hair. When he was put on display. When his stats were presented, and numbers were called. Prices, and bidders.

Prices rose. Bidders fell.

Peter didn’t look.

People shouted, jeered. Someone threw something at him.

Peter didn’t look.

Prices climbed. High hundreds, low thousands. Five bidders left. Peter was popular; who knew?

High thousands. Three bidders.

At least he was loved somewhere.

One million dollars.

A fight between bidders 79 and 112. If anyone was listening, if anyone still cared, Peter hoped the nicer of the two would win - but no one ever listened. No one ever cared.

$1.2 million was where it ended.

The gavel struck.

Peter had a new owner.

He still didn’t look.

Peter’s collar was tugged. With his heart beating loudly in his ears and a single tear streaming down his face he refused to acknowledge, he was led off of the stage.

He was returned to his cage, stuffed inside, his hands still tied and the rope around his neck secured to one of the bars. He was forced to wait, kneeling, hunched over, in the middle of his cage. He couldn’t inch back; the rope restricted it.

Peter didn’t know how long he’d been waiting.

He heard the commotion of the auction coming to the end, of buyers coming to collect their prizes. Slaves were led past the front of his cage; he watched their feet move. Teddy, the 19-year-old bought mainly for physical labour; Amelia, the 25-year-old who was sold to auctions by her parents when she was young; and Morgan, the 8-year old. Peter’s heart dropped when he saw her pass. He didn’t even want to think about why people bought her.

Peter tried to remember every person’s name who he came across. Most of them, he saw again. They were returned once their purpose had been filled. Others, however, he saw only once before they were gone, bought by a man in expensive clothes.

The man in expensive clothes. He was the slaves’ collective nightmare, their one big, bad monster. They shrunk back when he came pre-auction to inspect the cages. No one knew what happened to the slaves he bought, but they never returned.

Still, Peter never forgot their names.

Marcy, James, and Ryan were being led away, out the back door. They hadn’t been bought, and so they’d be retrained (punished). Peter forced his head down lower as they passed. He couldn’t bear to make eye contact, to wish them well. He’d never had to be retrained, after all. He just hoped he’d see them again. He hoped they wouldn’t…  _ break _ , like so many others.

And then he was alone, the only merchandise left. He remained frozen in his cage, eyes down, waiting, the room silent except for the mumbling of the two guards by the door.

And then, footsteps.

Shoes clicking against the cement like heels on a church floor that sent chills down Peter’s spine. His buyer, it had to be. The one that paid $1.2 million for him. No one had paid that much before. Peter’s heart began beating twice as fast in trepidation. What would someone want with him? Why did they want him so desperately?

The buyer’s shoes came into view, and Peter’s heart seemed to stop beating all together.

They were black. Expensive.

The man in expensive clothes had returned, and this time, he had come for Peter.

Peter closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to Milo, Elizabeth, Lilly, Kyle - Morgan. Everyone he was leaving behind, who he might never see again. He knew one day he’d be broken. He’d be bought, and he would never return, because his owner liked him too much, or the exact opposite.

He’d just never thought that day would’ve been today.

The buyer unlocked his cage, the loud, echoing  _ clang  _ causing Peter to flinch back as far as the rope would allow. He had never been this apprehensive before. Then again, there had never before been a certainty that he would never return.

The buyer was silent as he pulled the door open, unfurled the rope that was attached to one of the bars, and tugged it lightly, just enough for Peter to feel it. He crawled shakily out of the cage and onto the concrete, pebbles digging into his hands and knees.

“On your feet,” the buyer said quietly, and Peter hurried to comply, shoving himself, trembling, to stand. Head and eyes down. Maybe… maybe if he was quiet, if he was compliant, the man in expensive clothes would let him live.

The buyer moved forward, toward the exit, and Peter took a shaky step to follow. He blinked back tears, shoulders quivering. This… this was it. He might never see these auction sites, these cages, these guards, again. As awful as they were… they were better than death.

The buyer pushed the exit door open and Peter’s eyes were assaulted by daylight. He flinched back before he realized to stop himself and sudden warning bells of  _ compliance compliance compliance  _ rang through his mind-

“S’alright, you’re okay,” the buyer murmured, stopping so the rope wouldn’t pull tight around Peter’s throat as he paused to adjust. Peter hurried forward anyway. He never should’ve stopped in the first place.

The buyer continued forward, slow enough that the rope remained slack between them, but Peter was too distraught to notice the limited freedom he’d been given.

They came to a stop in front of an expensive-looking black car waiting outside, and Peter’s heart dropped to his shoes. This was it. Once he was in the car, once it began driving… it wouldn’t stop. He’d be introduced to his new life, one he wouldn’t be able to escape from.

The buyer silently pulled open the passenger door of the car and allowed Peter to climb in. His hands, still tied behind his back, were placed awkwardly beneath him, but he refused to complain. He wouldn’t dare. The buyer placed the end of the rope in Peter’s lap and closed the door with a confining  _ slam _ .

Peter kept his eyes on the rope in his lap, beginning to tremble slightly with the weight of his tears. Auction after auction was awful.

Death was worse.

The driver door opened and Peter swallowed thickly as the buyer settled behind the wheel. There was a beat of silence before he shifted in his seat, and Peter tensed, preparing himself for a hit… or worse.

“Can I put on your seatbelt?” the buyer asked softly, and Peter nodded.

“Yes, Sir,” he answered quickly, despite his true wishes. More restriction was the last thing he wanted - but he was compliant. Always compliant.

The buyer reached over Peter, careful not to touch him. Peter leaned back anyway, pressing himself into the seat, keeping his eyes down. Always.

The seatbelt clicked shut, the buyer never having touched Peter. Then he turned back forward and pressed on the gas, and the car went speeding out of the parking lot.

Huh. So, nothing bad had happened… yet.

But there was definitely more time for that, maybe the rest of Peter’s life… however long that was going to be.

“You don’t have to call me that,” the buyer said quietly as the car drove away. “You can, if you want, but only if you want.” A pause. “My name is Tony.”

“Yes, Sir,” Peter whispered in response. He heard a sigh, and he dropped his head, tucking his chin against his chest, and squeezed his eyes shut. He had disappointed his owner. He had said something wrong. But all his owners wanted to be called Sir!

Peter inhaled sharply when he remembered the very first thing he was taught in training.

_ Do whatever your owner wants, no matter what. _

He had failed.

“Whoa. Hey, no, that was not at  _ you _ ,” the buyer said quickly as the car took a turn and came to a stop, but Peter was too distraught to register the lack of movement of the vehicle.

“Hey,” the buyer,  _ Tony _ , said softly. “What’s your name?”

“Peter, Sir,” Peter answered quickly, understanding all Tony knew him as was Lot 34.

“Hello, Peter. It’s nice to meet you.” Peter shivered. That was what they all said. “I don’t want to hurt you, Peter. I have no intention of that. I go to auctions. I… I  _ purchase  _ those being, um, sold. The ones who look like they need the most help. I rescue them, free them. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner - I didn’t know who could’ve been listening, and then I wouldn’t be allowed back to save more kids.”

Peter sniffled. There was no way that was the truth, right? Tony had to be lying to give Peter false hope.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re lying.” Peter was going to die anyway, he was sure of it. At least he would die fighting.

Tony’s voice was soft. “Excuse me?”

“You-” Peter sniffled, eyes still dutifully down. “You kill people. You buy slaves, then they’re never seen again. You- you’re the man in expensive clothes.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from beside him, and Peter - if he was going to die anyway….

He looked up, his entire body seeming to scream at him that it was wrong, and saw that - beneath his goatee and clean-cut hair, behind his glasses that made him seem  _ that  _ much harsher… Tony looked  _ horrified _ .

“Is that what they say?” he said quietly. Peter managed a shaky nod, uncertainty twisting its way into his gut. “Peter, no, I swear I’d never….” A breath. “Here. I’m going to unlock the car doors, and if you want you… you can leave. If you stay, I’ll untie your wrists and we can talk. But I promise you, you’re free now-”

Peter was struggling to leave the car before Tony could finish. He twisted his body to give his hands access to the handle behind him, and for a moment he came face-to-face with Tony, the man pressing himself back against the driver door with a saddened expression - but the passenger door was opening and Peter was toppling backward out of the car before he could take it into consideration.

His back ached. His head pounded. There were pebbles from the ground seeming to impale his skin, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. He haphazardly shoved himself to his feet, and ran.

He was in the empty parking lot of a shopping mall. He didn’t care. Peter sprinted toward it as fast as his awkwardly distributed weight would allow him to, because Tony could be behind him, chasing him, aiming with a gun-

Peter cast a nervous glance over his shoulder as he panted.

Tony was nowhere to be seen.

In the distance, at the far end of the lot, Peter saw the black sports car, and inside it, Tony, watching Peter with a saddened expression.

Peter stopped moving.

Why wasn’t Tony coming after him? Was it possible… he was actually telling the truth?

Peter turned back to the car, and saw Tony straighten in his chair. He took a slow, uncertain step back - then, when nothing happened, another. Then, another.

He wasn’t entirely sure he could trust Tony - but Tony would’ve let him run into the mall, call for help.

How… how bad could he be?

And it wasn’t like Peter had any other option.

As Peter approached, Tony slowly pushed open the car door and stood, moving to stand in front of the hood. Peter stopped a few steps away, just out of arm’s reach.

“Why did you choose me…  _ Sir? _ ” Peter asked warily, unable to totally break protocol.

Tony remained still, not wanting to make a single move that would make Peter unsure. “The woman I was bidding against, I didn’t like the way she was looking at you… the way she was dressed. She was betting so much, she desperately wanted you….” He shrugged. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

For a moment, neither moved. Tony stopped speaking, and Peter debated his answer. And then, Peter broke the peace.

He took a step forward.

Tony could grab him if he wanted, could reach forward and force him into the open car door - but he didn’t. He kept his hands at his sides, smiling softly as Peter approached.

Peter blinked back tears as he stepped closer. Was he actually…  _ safe? _

“Please help me,” he whispered.

Tony nodded once, smiling softly. “May I?”

Peter nodded shakily and turned, giving Tony access to the rope that bound his wrists. He felt Tony’s fingers brush against his arms and he tensed, unable to keep a whimper from escaping his lips. Tony withdrew immediately, and Peter took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“That’s okay,” Tony answered from behind him. “Can I try again?”

Peter nodded shakily, and he felt Tony’s gentle fingers move about his wrists before the rope fell away from them. Peter pulled them to his front, cradling them to his chest, and turned sharply to face Tony. He didn’t want to leave his back to the man for longer than he had to.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Tony nodded. “Do you want me to remove the rope from your neck, or do you want to do it yourself?”

Peter thought for a moment. The knots they tied at the auction house, they were the ones that tightened if you pulled at them wrong. Peter had seen it; he didn’t want to experience it, and he didn’t know how to avoid it. But if Tony had access to Peter’s neck, the rope around it….

No. If Tony wanted to hurt Peter, he would’ve done it already. He’d had plenty of chances to - but he had proven that that wasn’t his intention, right? And… truthfully speaking, Peter could never truly escape Tony. If Tony was going to kill him… Peter would rather he do it sooner than after months of manipulation.

Closing his eyes and swallowing thickly, Peter nodded.

“Okay,” Tony said softly. “Thank you. I… I’m going to untie it now, alright?”

Peter nodded.

He felt hands on his neck, and it took the entirety of his strength to keep from pulling back. A few painstaking seconds, a quick intake of breath when fingers slipped and touched his skin as oppose to the rope - and it fell away.

Peter’s skin was angry and it stung when the air hit it, but it was the best feeling he’d felt in…  _ years _ .

He was finally free.

His eyes opened with in surprise and he saw Tony step back, smiling, if a bit nervously.

“Thank you,” he whispered, tears beginning to brim.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Tony said quietly. “It’s… really, you deserve so much more.”

Peter lifted a trembling hand to run gently along the damaged skin of his neck - though, it wasn’t as bad as it had been when previous owners had yanked at the rope.

Maybe Tony wasn’t so bad, after all.

“What do I do now, Sir?” Peter asked carefully.

“It’s up to you. You’re a free man, now, Peter. You can go to the police, or find a relative. Anywhere you like.”

Peter paused for a moment, debating. Finally, he took a deep breath, gathered up his courage, and spoke.

“I-I don’t think I have anyone… can I stay with you?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Peter flinched. Never ask for anything, never,  _ never _ -

“Of course you can,” Tony answered slowly, his voice a tad higher. “Of course you can, Peter - but only if you really want to. I don’t…  _ own _ you. You know that, right?” Peter nodded, and… something was happening to his face. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. Was… was he  _ smiling? _ “Here,” Tony continued, oblivious to Peter’s inner discovery. “Would you like to get back in the car?”

“Okay,” Peter answered clearly, definitively. The two climbed back in and settled into their respective seats, the ropes left discarded on the parking lot ground. Peter raised trembling fingers to connect his seat belt. His back was rigid and he was continuously eyeing Tony, preparing for an attack… but he was more at ease. He wasn’t sure he was safe, but he had a pretty good guess.

“Peter,” Tony started slowly. “You would know… who should I search for next? Who needs my he-”

“Morgan,” Peter answered without a moment’s hesitation as Tony put the car in drive. “Please, Sir. She’s eight. She’s been in there since she was so, so young-”

“Okay,” Tony soothed. “Alright, don’t get riled up, kid. I’ll help her, I promise.”

Peter sighed in relief, leaning back in his chair. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Tony, kid. Please.”

“Okay,” Peter said quietly. “Thank you, Tony.”


	2. Choices

Tony was cautious as he drove back to his penthouse - driving the speed limit, no sharp turns, never removing his hands from the wheel. Nothing that could unnerve Peter, or give him reason to fear Tony.

Though, it seemed his attempts to keep Peter comfortable and relaxed were fruitless. The boy’s back was rigid and his eyes were constantly flitting from staring straight ahead to looking nervously at Tony as he pressed himself as close to his car door as possible.

Tony didn’t know why he’d agreed to let Peter stay with him. All he did for the other kids was pick them up and bring them to the nearest police station, or to relatives if the kids had (or remembered) them. None had ever asked to stay with him, and he had never considered offering - but when Peter asked… well, Tony couldn’t just say no.

His penthouse was about to be filled with rescued children, wasn’t it?

“You doing alright, Pete?” Tony asked as he turned onto his street.

Peter cleared his throat. “Yes, Si-  _ Tony _ ,” he corrected fearfully.

“Whatever you want to call me, kid. It’s your choice.”

“Can- can I call you Sir?”

Tony bit back his disappointed sigh. He needed to take slow steps, right? And making a choice - that was a good place to start.

“Call me whatever you like, as long as you choose it. Do  _ you  _ want to call me Sir?” Peter nodded, and Tony forced a smile. He wasn’t sure he believed Peter, but he couldn’t outright accuse the kid. “Then call me Sir.”

Tony kept his attention forward as he turned into his apartment complex and headed toward the underground parking garage, nodding to his neighbours as he drove passed them. There was James Barnes, a rescued prisoner of war and ex-soldier of Afghanistan, and his boyfriend, Steve Rogers, an art teacher at the studio across the street. Tony spoke to them sometimes - they were nice - but not  _ too  _ often. He wanted to remain as incognito as possible, which was why he had used his inheritance money to buy a place in Brooklyn as oppose to living in his late father’s mansion in Manhattan.

Tony also drove passed James Rhodes, an NYPD detective and Tony’s best friend who lived in a house across the street. He gave a small wave, which James returned, before Tony turned into the parking garage - and he heard a gasp from behind him.

Tony slammed on the breaks half way down the ramp and looked to Peter, who was sitting stiff in his chair, staring out the front windshield to the depths of the garage below.

“You said penthouse,” Peter whispered. Tony put the car in park on the ramp.

“I have to park the car before we can go up,” he soothed. “You can get out here, if you want, and I’ll come get you once I’ve parked.” Peter remained still. “Peter, I promise, I won’t do anything to hurt you. I want to help you, but you’ve got to trust me, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter answered in a whisper after a minute.

“Do you want to get out here and wait for me?”

“No,” Peter sighed, slowly shaking his head. “I want to stay with you.”

Tony smiled as he put the car in drive and rolled down the ramp, found a parking spot and climbed out, allowed Peter to leave the car on his own and close the door behind him. (He left rather quickly, Tony noted - almost as soon as the car was in park. Tony wondered if Peter didn’t want to spend longer than he had to with him, or if he was scared of being… locked in. And then, he wondered how often that had happened.)

They walked together to the elevator, keeping at least a foot of space between them at all times, pressed against opposite walls of the elevator as it rose. Peter kept his eyes down constantly. When the automated voice announced that they had reached the penthouse floor, Peter flinched.

Tony led Peter down the singular hallway to the only door on the top floor, his penthouse. He unlocked the door and allowed Peter to enter first.

“They’re all like this,” Peter murmured, almost to himself, as Tony closed the door behind them.

“Like what?” Tony asked, and Peter jumped, looking guilty, like he hadn’t expected or meant for Tony to hear.

“Um, fancy, Sir,” he answered nervously. “All white and black a-and sharp corners. Expensive-looking.”

Tony hummed as he stepped into the open-concept space and moved to sit on the single couch he owned, hoping Peter would feel comfortable enough to follow him - and trying to hide the guilt and disgust he felt at Peter’s statement. (He made a mental note to replace his large, white couch with colourful bean bag chairs at his first opportunity.)

Peter drifted from the front hallway to stand in front of the couch, eyes downcast. “May I sit, Sir?”

Tony was quick to nod. “You never have to ask, kid. You can do whatever you’d like from now on. Heck, you want to yell at me? Go right ahead.”

A look of disgust crossed Peter’s face as he lowered himself to the couch. “I’d never want to yell at you, Sir! You’ve been so kind to me!”

Tony just shook his head slowly -  _ It’s basic human decency _ , he wanted to say - but he changed the topic anyway.

“Hey, Peter,” he began slowly. “If - and only if - you’re comfortable talking about it… what did you do before? With your previous…  _ owners _ .” He had to spit out the word. No human being should ever be  _ owned _ .

“I worked for them,” he answered distinctly. “I cooked and cleaned. Some wanted me to pretend I was their kid, or - boyfriend.” He looked up at Tony nervously, and the man felt sick to his stomach. “Majority just wanted….” Peter took a deep breath. “A partner. In bed.”

Tony thought he was going to throw up.

“But - but that’s normal for us. That’s usually what slaves are bought for-”

“Please,” Tony interjected suddenly. “Please don’t… call them slaves.”

Peter looked confused. “But that’s what we are.”

_ We _ .

Tony swallowed thickly as Peter continued. “But a few people, they did…  _ other  _ things to me. They don’t do it to the other kids. I… have a higher pain threshold, I guess.” Peter took a deep breath, and Tony waited anxiously. “They, um… would conduct, what they called, experiments. And they’d… I don’t know, test medicinal cures, or… or some just did it for… for  _ pleasure _ -”

He stopped suddenly and looked down, sobs beginning to wrack his body. Tony reached a hand for his shoulder.

“Hey, Pete-”

But the kid flinched away, and Tony pulled his hand back.

“Shit- I’m sorry, kid, I didn’t mean-”

Peter shook his head as he sniffled. “No, it was m-my fault, Sir. I should-shouldn’t have moved.”

Tony sighed. “That’s not true,” he said quietly, before an idea struck him. “Here, Peter, can we try something? Like… a game.”

Peter looked up at him nervously. “Yes, Sir.”

Tony couldn’t tell if he was answering of his own accord or following orders, but he continued anyway.

“Alright, stand up.” Peter complied immediately. “Now, did you do that of your own volition, or because I told you to?”

Peter looked confused. “I chose to follow your orders, Sir. It’s what I wanted to do.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, now I want you to choose a side of the room, either to your right or to your left or- even behind you, if you’d like, and walk to it.”

Peter looked unsure. “W-Why, Sir?”

Tony leaned back, body language relaxed, and gave Peter a smile. “I just want you to make a choice.” Peter didn’t move. “Here, look.” Tony raised a hand to cover his eyes, Peter watching anxiously. “I won’t watch. I want you to choose a wall, walk to it, and come back to the centre of the room. Then tell me when you’re done.”

As Tony sat in the self-induced darkness, there was absolute silence. Peter was unsure. For a moment Tony worried if he was doing the wrong thing. Would he get his point across? What if he was just making Peter conflicted? Was this truly in Peter’s best interests?

And then, movement.

Tony fought not to smile, not to react in any was that would deter Peter as he heard footsteps and the swishing of clothes. Finally, Peter cleared his throat.

“I’m done, Sir.”

Tony removed his hand from his eyes, smiling. “See? You made a choice without me telling you what to do. Now I’ll never know what you chose-”

Peter raised his arm to point to the wall nearest Tony. “I chose that one.”

Tony sighed, dejected. “Okay, well, now I know. You know what? That’s alright. We’ll work on it. C’mon, have a seat.” Peter moved to resettle on the couch to Tony’s left. “Do you mind if I ask you another question?”

“Of course not, Sir.”

“How did you end up at those… auctions?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “My- my parents passed away. I don’t remember how young I was - I don’t remember them at all, actually. This man came to me and told me he was taking me to my new home, and then….” Peter sniffled. “He brought me to the cages. Sir, please, I don’t want to talk about it, please don’t make me-”

Tony shushed Peter gently, and the boy fell silent, whimpering slightly.

“I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do, Peter,” Tony assured him quietly, heart breaking. “You always have the right to say no. Actually… I have another game for you. A challenge, sort of, but with no pressure, alright? By the end of today, I want you to have said  _ no  _ to me three times.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he whispered like what he was saying was illegal, and he feared someone might overhear. “You want me to defy you, Sir?”

“I want you to not do what makes you uncomfortable. Do you think you can-”

“No,” Peter whispered, eyes wide and fearful. “No, I don’t- I don’t want to do that - there, I said it twice, please don’t make me do it-”

“Okay,” Tony soothed, disappointment at Peter’s reluctance to free will being replaced by the shame he felt when he took in Peter’s red, panicked eyes and obvious distress. “I’m sorry, Peter, I didn’t think it would upset you this much. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

The relief on Peter’s face was obvious as he slumped back in his seat. Tony bit back a sigh as he stood and stepped toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make us some food-”

“Allow me, Sir,” Peter said quickly as he stood and hurried around Tony, leaving the man to look after him in confusion - and slight frustration. All Tony could do was watch for a moment as Peter began to rummage through the cabinets for a frying pan. Just as he rose with one, Tony stepped forward slowly and gently placed his hand over where Peter’s sat on the handle. The boy tensed, but Tony just slid the pan from beneath his fingers.

“Peter,” he scolded gently. “You’re not my…  _ slave _ .” He had to spit the word out. “I don’t want that from you. I want you to be free and do what  _ you  _ want.”

Peter looked confused. “But I want to serve you, Sir. It would make me happy.”

Tony just shook his head slowly as he turned to the stove and began preparing their meal. “Have a seat, kid.”

“But, Sir-”

“ _ Peter! _ ” Tony scolded, and Peter’s eyes went wide. Tony took a deep breath as he watched Peter…  _ tremble _ . The poor kid was shaking. “Please- please sit down.”

Peter moved quickly to obey, slinking back to sit on the couch with his eyes down. Tony sighed as he watched, before dropping his head into his hands.

_ Shit _ . He had a lot of work to do.

Tony tried to ignore the distressed boy on the couch, sitting and stiff and frozen to comply to the best of his ability, as he began to prepare a simple soup, setting aside the guilt he felt at the thought that next crossed his mind -  _ At least Peter won’t be bothering you now _ .

Tony bit back a grimace as he tightened his grip on the wooden spoon he was using to stir the pot of water. For one, Peter wasn’t bothering Tony. He would  _ never  _ bother Tony. Tony had invited Peter to his home voluntarily. It was what he  _ did _ . It was what he dedicated his life toward, and he should be prepared to undertake all aspects of it. Second, he thought with disgust at himself, Tony should  _ never  _ use Peter’s submission and willingness to follow orders for his own advantage. He hated himself just considering it.

And so, as he added in noodles to the pot of boiling water, he set some rules for himself.

  1. Never, _ever_ raise your voice, especially not with Peter.
  2. Don’t ever order. Only request.



He’d follow these rules no matter what. If that’s what it took to keep Peter happy and comfortable… he’d do anything.

- -

They ate dinner in silence, Tony for fear of saying anything to make it worse, and Peter… for genuine fear.

Tony cleared the table without a word when they were done, then headed with Peter to the bedroom, giving him a set of clothes and leaving to allow him to change. He resettled on the couch and allowed himself to zone out, focusing back in when Peter reentered the room and stood in front of Tony in a new pair of gray sweatpants and a red t-shirt, his head down.

Tony repositioned himself to sit upright, showing Peter he acknowledged his presence, but Peter didn’t react.

“Hey, kid. Clothes alright? They fit?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Peter answered timidly, head still down. Tony frowned. He was acting…  _ too  _ fearful.

“Are you okay?”

Peter’s voice was quiet. “I’m awaiting punishment, Sir.”

Tony pushed himself shakily to his feet, a step away from Peter. “Why- what-” he stuttered. “Why do you think you’d be…  _ punished? _ ”

“I disobeyed your orders. You told me to say  _ no  _ three times and I refused and only said it twice. Then I bothered you while trying to make a meal and I had to sit down. I caused you distress.”

Tony’s heart sunk in his chest. He  _ hated  _ Peter thinking this way, but he had no idea how to stop it. It seemed to be engraved within him, and Tony wondered if inspiring him to believe in free will was even possible.

Tony would make it possible.

He placed a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder. The boy didn’t react and kept his head down.

“Peter, you never have to apologize. I will never… give you orders. Requests, maybe, but if you don’t want to follow them, you don’t have to.” Peter peered up at Tony nervously through his lashes. Tony smiled down at him. “You don’t bother me, Peter. You’ll  _ never  _ bother me. I want you to be happy, and to make your own decisions. If those decisions conflict with mine… so what? That’s what life is.”

Peter still looked unsure. “My only goal in life is to serve you, Sir.”

Tony exhaled deeply. “We’ve gotta change that, kid. I mean, have you ever wanted to do anything, just for you?”

Peter shook his head quickly. “Of course not, Sir.”

“It’s not a trick question.”

Peter hesitated before speaking, his voice quiet and trembling. “Um… well, Sir, I’ve always… always wanted to wear… a hat.”

Tony smiled softly. “Can I ask why?”

“I always see people wearing them, but I was never allowed to. And my previous owners, they’d pull at my hair.” He looked nervously at Tony. “I want to keep it protected.”

Tony didn’t miss what was insinuated.  _ Keep it protected... from you _ . He smiled anyway. He didn’t blame Peter for being weary. Plus, baby steps.

“Alright, come on, then. Let’s go pick one.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “ _ Now _ , Sir?”

Tony grinned. “‘Course. Come on.”

A few minutes and a black beanie later, Peter sat, beaming, on Tony’s bed as the man waited by the door.

“You like it?” Tony asked.

“Yes. Thank you... Tony.”

“Alright.” Tony grinned. “Ready to get some sleep?”

Peter stood quickly. “Would you like me in the closet or on the floor?” Tony was shocked into silence, and Peter smiled. “Or am I allowed to choose?”

“You’re on the bed, kid.”

Peter’s smile faltered. “With- with you, Sir?”

Tony bit back his look of disgust.  _ It’s all Peter knows, _ he had to remind himself.

“Until we can find another bed for you, you’ll take this one and I’ll take the couch.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “I don’t want to steal your bed.”

Tony shook his head. “You’re not  _ stealing _ , I’m offering. Okay?”

Peter paused for only a moment before nodding and beginning to climb under the covers, and Tony nodded in satisfaction, taking a step out of the room.

“You need anything in the night, you get hungry, thirsty, uncomfortable, whatever, you do whatever needs to be done. You can touch anything in the fridge, go anywhere on the floor, and you can always wake me up if you need me. Good?”

Peter nodded from under the covers, smiling.

“Thank you, Tony.”

Tony grinned in return before bidding Peter a good night and stepping out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Baby steps.


	3. The Return

By the time Peter woke up and trudged out of the bedroom, Tony was already awake and sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug in his hands. He smiled at Peter as he approached.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Good morning… Tony.” It took the entirety of Peter’s focus and willpower not to call Tony  _ Sir _ \- nine years of conditioning after being taken at the age of six ensured that - but sometimes it still slipped out. When Tony was asking questions ( _ demanding answers _ , in Peter’s mind) or when Peter was following orders (when really they were those of previous owners and not Tony’s own requests. Peter was still trying to distinguish between the two). But this, now, was easy to remember. Tony was seated with a table between them, both hands were occupied, and he was smiling kindly. There were no expectations, no orders, nothing to follow.

In this light, it was easy to call him  _ Tony _ .

“You hungry?” Peter shook his head  _ no  _ as he stepped forward to take a seat at the table. “Well, fridge is always open. I’ve got some news you might like.” Peter leaned forward slightly, confused.

“Morgan. I found her.”

Peter sat upright, and his eyes grew wide. “Really? A-are you going to get her? Today?”

“Mhm.” Tony chuckled at Peter’s excitement. “But first, I have a few questions.” Peter’s expression sobered and he settled for drumming his fingers anxiously against his thigh as he nodded, biting back a  _ yes, Sir. _ “I’m on the… waiting list, I guess they call it,” Tony said after a moment with disgust. “I expressed my interest in… in buying her a while ago while I was rescuing another kid - Liam, I believe his name was - so I could always go back for her. Anyway, point is, they notified me that she was…  _ purchased  _ yesterday at the auction where I found you, but she was brought back this morning.” Tony leaned forward, across the table, and Peter’s shoulders subconsciously stiffened; but whether it was because of the shortened distance between them or the topic where the conversation was inevitably going, he didn’t know.

“Peter, why would someone buy her, just for the night?”

Peter took a slow breath. “She… she’s just an eight-year-old girl. She’s not strong enough for physical labour, so people buy her for….” He quieted his voice and dropped his eyes to the table. “For pleasure.”

He saw Tony swallow thickly across the table. “Is she always returned after just one night?”

“Usually,” Peter answered, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what we hope for. If it’s any longer, usually up until a week, she comes back and she’s sobbing, bruised, in p-pain.”

Tony took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay. Alright, Pete, thanks for telling me. I’m glad I’m getting her next.” He stood from the table and began to step toward the sink, mug empty in his hand. Peter watched him go anxiously, mentally fighting between obeying orders and there not being a need to before he finally spoke up.

“Can I go with you?”

Tony stopped moving and turned toward him, surprised. “You- you want to come? To the auction?” Peter nodded. Tony leaned back against the wall behind him, debating. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Pete. For one, I don’t think it would be such a healthy environment for you to be in, so soon after leaving, you know?”

“I can do it, Sir.”  _ Be respectful and he’ll let you come.  _ “I’ll be good.”

Tony smiled softly. “I’m just worried it’ll… upset you. Maybe stir up memories, emotions.” Peter remained quiet, undeterred. “It’s also… people might recognize you, Pete. I don’t want them to see you as…  _ not  _ a slave, standing beside me, realize something’s up, and then I won’t be allowed to return.”

“Then I’ll be a slave.”

Tony blanched. “I- what?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, almost to himself, as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. “You can say I- I’ve been bad, or something. You want to show me what’ll happen if I continue to-” his voice caught. “Misbehave.”

Tony shook his head decidedly. “No. I’m not doing that.”

“Please, Sir,” Peter begged. “Please, I want to see her. I want to save her, like you saved me. And- and you’re the man in expensive clothes. She’ll be scared. She’ll assume you have bad intentions. Maybe I can calm her down. She’s a  _ kid _ .” Peter’s voice cracked. “Please, let me help.”

Tony sighed heavily, just looking at Peter, who waited anxiously for an answer. The thought of going back there did make him nervous, but he wanted to  _ help _ . If he was to stay with Tony, he wanted to become a part of this, a functioning,  _ useful  _ part of it.

“Okay,” Tony finally caved. “But,” he cut in before Peter got too excited, “there are a few rules. One, you can’t get too involved. You stay by my side the entire time, and you stay quiet, okay?” Peter nodded earnestly. Tony’s voice quieted. “Two… you can’t take anything I say or do in the auction house to heart. I won’t exactly be mean… but I won’t be gentle, either.” Tony sighed. “See, this is why I don’t want you coming. Whenever I go to those auction houses, I have to put up a façade so they trust me, and I don’t want it hurting you. I don’t mean any of it - I  _ never  _ meant any of it… but I still don’t want you seeing it.”

Peter smiled lightly. “I’ll be okay, Tony, I promise.”

Tony smiled, but there was something sad behind it, something not all good. “Alright,” he conceded quietly. “Then I guess we’d better get ready, and I’ll have to find you some ill-fitting clothes.”

- -

Peter fought to stay calm as Tony found him gray pants and a white t-shirt that was too big for him, as Tony took away his hat. He knew this was necessary. He asked for it, after all - and it wasn’t like Tony was being rough or rude about it. He was kinder than Peter could’ve imagined, truly, constantly asking if Peter was alright, if he wanted to back out. He never did - but he couldn’t keep his breath from catching when Tony went into the bathroom and came out ten minutes later in a black suit, hair perfectly combed and gelled to the side, sunglasses high on his nose.

He was no longer Tony. Within the span of ten minutes he had once more become the man in expensive clothes, the one that had purchased Peter not even 24 hours ago. He was coming for Peter, locked in his cage, hands tied, rope around his neck too tight, and Peter had to leave, had to get away before he arrived, nine years of horror stories and disappearing children and Peter was next-

The man in expensive clothes -  _ Tony  _ \- broke through the haze in Peter’s mind, pulling off his sunglasses and raising his hands, palms out.

“Hey,” he soothed, eyes honest and gentle. “Just me. Peter, if you don’t want to do this, if it’s too much for you, that’s  _ fine _ . It’s preferable, actually. You can wait here, and I’ll bring Morgan home to you, safe and sound. I promise.”

Peter swallowed thickly and shook his head. “No, I-I want to come.”

Tony almost looked…  _ disappointed _ , but he masked it quickly and nodded once, placing his sunglasses back on his face. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded shakily. “I think so.”  _ I hope so _ .

The walk to the car was tense and quiet. Peter felt safer with Tony, he’d admit, despite the black suit and the fact that Peter was walking beside the man who had spent the last nine years orchestrating his nightmares. They were both nervous about the outcome of today.

Peter assumed Tony did this often, and therefore wouldn’t be too worried - but he probably never did it with a kid. That put so much more on the line, introduced so much more room for error.

Peter was nervous to mess up, he realized as he climbed into the sleek, black car that so many kids feared. He was apprehensive about returning to the auction house, but that wasn’t his main source of stress.

This was his first outing with Tony. He wanted to do Tony proud, to prove to the man that he hadn’t made a mistake in purchasing Peter. Though he doubted it would happen, he had the constant fear that Tony would bring him back, and after this taste of freedom… he didn’t want to return. Which meant he had to perform perfectly, and therefore-

“The rope.”

Tony looked at him quizzically as they drove out of the parking garage. “What?”

“If I’m your slave… I was just bought. I’d still be defiant. You’d need to restrain me.”

“You want me to tie you up.”

Peter shrugged nervously. “Otherwise they might get suspicious.”

“Are you sure?” Tony seemed to be pleading. “I don’t want to hurt you, Peter. I don’t want to do anything unnecessary that you’d be uncomfortable with. If you stay quiet and by my side, wouldn’t they just think you’re compliant?”

Peter shook his head. “If you want to be allowed to stay… you’d have to act harsh, like you’re one of them, which means being mean to your s-slaves.” Peter hated that he kept getting choked up and stuttering. He really wanted to help; his subconscious just didn’t seem to agree.

Tony sighed in frustration. “If you really think so… I don’t have any rope. We’d need to buy some.”

Peter answered softly. “Then let’s buy some.”

- -

A few minutes and a quick stop at a hardware store later, Peter sat in the moving car with a coil of rope in his lap, trying (and failing) to hide his trembling. Tony had bought the softest, most thin rope he could find and had given it to Peter in advance in order to allow him to get used to it. Still, Peter was nervous.

When he let Tony untie his bonds in that empty mall parking lot, he thought he was done. Now, he was  _ voluntarily _ entering that precarious position again, but still, it felt wrong.

“The ropes aren’t mandatory, Peter,” Tony muttered as he drove, sensing Peter’s hesitation. He straightened in his seat, attempting to look stronger than he felt. Maybe he could find a way to manifest what he was pretending to be, trick himself into believing it.

“If we want to make this believable, they are.”

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Tony reminded him softly. Peter shook his head.

“I can do this.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded as he turned the car into a parking lot beside a bleak-looking cement building that Peter had never seen from the outside, but it still made him shiver. He couldn’t take his eyes off the graying bricks as Tony pulled the car to a stop, hands twisting the rope that sat in his lap.

His heart started beating twice as fast and his breathing sped up once he realized what was about to happen. The rope would be tied around his neck and his wrists and he would be led back in there, back into that house of nightmares he’d been hidden in for the last nine years.

He was, once more, going to be treated like a slave.

Peter took a deep breath. He volunteered for this. Tony had established nothing he would do was truly  _ him _ , his actions, and so… so, it was different. It was a covert rescue mission - that’s  _ it _ . And he had to succeed.

Tony cleared his throat, and Peter turned to look at him. He saw his own worried expression reflected in Tony’s glasses.  _ At least I won’t have to pretend to be fearful _ , he thought as Tony reached out and gently pried the rope from his hands.

“Peter,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” His voice was serious, and Peter knew that if he said  _ no  _ Tony would drive him back to the penthouse without a second thought - but Peter nodded his head. He had to do this. He had to help.

He had to be useful.

“Alright,” Tony said softly. “Hold out your hands.”

Peter offered his hands out in front of him, wrists together - and to his horror, they were  _ shaking _ . Tony dropped the rope to his lap for a moment and placed his own hands around Peter’s wrists, gave them a gentle squeeze. Peter raised his wide eyes and saw Tony’s face, with sunglasses, through the blur of the beginnings of tears.

“It’ll be alright,” Tony soothed. “You’re doing a really great thing, Peter. You’re so brave. I’m proud of you.” Peter nodded as he sniffled and sat up straighter. Tony retracted his hands and reached for the rope, beginning to loop it gently around Peter’s wrists. Peter counted - once, twice, three times around. Then Tony pulled it tight - not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to look secure. Tight enough to  _ feel  _ secure. Tony tied the knot, and Peter flinched.

Tony lay his hands around Peter’s (now bound) wrists once more. “Is that okay?”

Peter nodded, eyes focused solely on the ropes. “Now my neck.”

Tony frowned disapprovingly. “Peter, are you  _ sure?  _ Is that really necessary?”

“All slaves have a collar.”

Tony exhaled deeply. “I don’t like it.”

“It has to be done,” Peter assurered quietly, and Tony, though conflicted, nodded as he, once more, reached for the rope. He began to pull one end around Peter’s neck, and Peter closed his eyes and sent his mind away to stay calm as Tony did so. He thought of Tony, how kind he was, how he was giving Peter a second chance at life. Then, he thought of Morgan, and how soon she, too, would be given that chance - because of Peter. Because of what he was doing now.

Peter opened his eyes to see Tony about to tie the rope, and he frowned.

“It’s not tight enough.”

Tony froze and looked up at him. “Any tighter, kid, and you’ll be choking.”

Peter shook his head as he reached for the ends of the rope Tony was holding. Tony reluctantly let him take them. “I don’t feel it yet.” Peter pulled the ends tight and the rope contracted faster than he expected, momentarily depriving him of breath. He hunched over and began to gasp.

“ _ Peter! _ ” Tony reached forward worriedly but Peter managed to hold up his hands, keeping Tony back as he coughed before straightening weakly.

“That’s… better,” he wheezed. “That’s… how they do it.”

Tony pulled off his sunglasses to fix Peter with a glare that was somewhere between disapproving and scrutinizing. “Peter,” he scolded, voice deep and dangerous and eyes dark. “I don’t know what this is, if it’s some kind of self-destructive tendency or guilt complex or- or self-inflicted  _ punishment _ , of some sort, but I won’t let it continue! I won’t let you do this to yourself!”

Peter looked up at Tony through the light-headedness he was feeling. (In some sick, twisted way, the feeling of rope around his neck, the light-headedness from lack of oxygen, provided him with comfort. This - hands tied in front of him, leash so tight he could barely force out a breath - this was how he had been restrained before, when life was predictable.

A dark part of himself desperately wished to return to that.)

“That’s not it,” Peter coughed. “I want to… to save her. It’s bad enough that you’re br- bringing me with you. This will prove I’m ac-” He stopped, took in a whistling breath. “Actually a slave.”

“Peter.” Tony’s voice broke, and Peter looked closer at his eyes. Were those…  _ tears  _ forming in the corners? “This isn’t right. I freed you so you wouldn’t have to go back to this! And if we’re playing along, who are they to tell me how to treat my sl-” Tony stopped himself. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he shook his head as he began to reach his arms forward. “No. We’re not doing this. Let me untie it-”

Peter threw himself back before Tony could make contact, forcing open the car door and stumbling to his feet outside of the vehicle amid Tony’s shout of “ _ Peter! _ ” from behind him. Peter stood triumphantly outside of the car as Tony ran in front of him, glasses back on - but even from behind them, Peter could see the man was  _ livid _ .

“What was  _ that? _ ” Tony hissed. Peter fought not to flinch. He was supposed to be a slave, after all. Slaves didn’t move. “You can’t do that here, Peter! People are watch-”

As if to emphasize the point, a man approached them from behind Peter and stepped around him and Tony, heading to the building. Tony straightened and morphed his expression into a neutral one, playing the part. The man’s face was vaguely familiar, and he whistled as he passed.

“Welcome back, Robert,” he greeted Tony, and Peter only let confusion cross his face for a moment before he registered Tony’s composed expression and the way he was gripping the rope attached to Peter’s collar. They were acting, and this must be a buyer. Peter forced his eyes down. “Man, if my slave acted without instruction like that, that’s a night locked in the cellar, you kidding me?”

Tony smiled at him, but it was humourless, dark - dare Peter say, sadistic - and Peter suppressed a shudder at the sight of it as the man left them and stepped inside the building. Tony released the rope and turned to Peter, shoulders relaxed and façade gone… for now.

“You alright?” he said stiffly. Peter nodded. “Good. You can’t do that here, alright? I have a reputation to uphold,” he said with the ghost of a smile and a hint of humour, an attempt to make an inside joke with Peter and make him comfortable.  _ The man in expensive clothes _ . Yes, Peter knew his reputation well.

Tony gently picked up the end of the rope and began to turn away when Peter called him back.

“Why’d he call you Robert?”

Tony turned back around. “That’s my cover,” he answered. “I didn’t want to give away my real name, especially not in a place like this, so that’s what they call me.” A beat. “Is there anything else you want to say? Because you know when we get in there, you… you won’t be allowed to speak.” Peter swallowed thickly and shook his head.

“No, Sir.”

Tony smiled, but it had a hint of sadness as he turned and led the way into the building, giving a light tug to the rope. Peter trailed behind him, his head down.

This was it.

- -

Tony led Peter through the entrance to the building and they found themselves in a small space bordered with curtains, the only other person there being a lady with a handheld receiver tucked into one side of her jeans and a gun on the other. Peter swallowed thickly when he noticed it and forced his head down as Tony met her gaze.

“Return?” the lady asked in a demanding voice. Tony chuckled darkly.

“No, screw-up. I bought him yesterday, but it’s taking him longer than it should to get in line. I’m here to remind him what’ll happen if he continues misbehaving.”

_ Screw up _ . Peter was so caught up on that word he didn’t register the two pairs of eyes on him. He jolted alert when his leash was yanked and he was pulled forward.

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir,” he stuttered on instinct, head down and heart beating loud in his ears. His voice cracked and he forced himself to stay calm as the woman looked away… but Tony kept his eyes on Peter for a moment longer. Tony knew something was up.

_ It’s an act _ , Peter reminded himself.  _ No matter your instincts, Tony’s faking to get you inside.  _ Peter remembered Tony’s rule two:  _ don’t take anything I say or do to heart _ . Peter knew, as long as he was with Tony, he was safe.

But at the moment, it didn’t feel that way.

The woman pulled back the curtain and let them enter the auction house. Tony tugged on the leash harder than he had done outside the building and Peter stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet. Tony reached out a hand to catch him, placing it on his shoulder and righting him. Peter felt the eyes of the woman on his back, and Tony must’ve noticed her, too, because he scowled.

“Clumsy idiot,” he scolded as he glared down at Peter, but he kept his hand on Peter’s shoulder a moment longer and squeezed reassuringly before he continued into the auction house. The curtain closed behind them, and they were in.

Peter managed to lift his eyes to peak at the room and was met with rows of chairs, half of them filled, facing a small stage with a podium at the front. The room was dark, except for spotlights lighting up the stage, the main attraction. Peter had never seen the room from this angle before, and he shivered.

When the man in expensive clothes came to collect Peter, he feared he would never see this place again. Then, when he learned of Tony’s true intentions, he reveled in that fact. Now, he wasn’t sure how he was feeling.

Tony led him to a seat near the back, away from the other bidders who were as close to the stage as possible, trying to get good views of the merchandise. Tony sat and led Peter to the seat behind him, but Peter frowned.

“I shouldn’t be beside you,” he whispered, head dutifully down. Tony leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes forward to the stage.

“Then where?” he muttered from the corner of his mouth.

“Your feet.” Tony didn’t respond. “Tony, this’ll look suspicious-”

Peter fell silent as a buyer walked down the aisle toward them, eyeing them suspiciously. Peter forced his head down and whispered, “ _ Now _ ” to Tony. The man barely hesitated for a moment before he yanked the leash and Peter fell to the floor at his feet, just in time for the man pass and nod appreciatively.

“At my feet, mutt,” Tony scolded - and, as Peter lay still on the floor, eyes down,  _ a good little slave _ (but he was pretending, of course, there wasn’t a chance he was doing this on instinct, responding to the rules that had been drilled into his brain), Peter couldn’t ignore how much the words hurt.

The man passed and Peter kept his eyes down, on his hands and knees, forehead practically touching the floor. He bit back the sob that threatened to rise in his throat.  _ You volunteered for this. Tony is acting. You volunteered for this. Tony is acting _ . As Peter repeated the phrases like a mantra in his mind (that he wasn’t entirely sure he believed), he felt something press gently against his side.  _ A shoe _ , Peter realized.  _ Tony’s shoe _ . A show of support. A way to confirm he was okay.

Peter adjusted himself slowly so he was sitting upright at Tony’s feet, and Tony loosened his grip on the collar to account for it. When Peter was sitting upright Tony placed a gentle hand on his hair, carded slowly through his curls. A sign of comfort. Peter allowed himself to relax into it.

And then, the auction started.

Peter had to squeeze his eyes shut as people, as  _ slaves _ , were led on and off stage, as numbers and prices were called and bidders got excited. Peter couldn’t suppress his shudders at times, and Tony noticed, threading his fingers through Peter’s curls and massaging slightly when he tensed.

Peter closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself any place but here, which was difficult when  _ here  _ had essentially been all he’d ever known. He tried to picture himself at the penthouse with Tony, reclining on couches he was never allowed to sit on, sleeping on mattresses he never expected to feel, wearing hats and watching tv - with Morgan by his side.

And then, as though his very thought had materialized her, Morgan’s name was called, and she was led on stage.

Peter stiffened, craning his neck to try to see her through rows of bidders. Tony stopped circling his hand over Peter’s curls and planted it firmly atop his head, a sign to  _ calm down, don’t make a scene _ , but Peter had already seen her.

She was  _ crying _ .

Morgan was like a little sister to Peter. They saw each other often. When she was stressed during the auctions, he’d talk to her, tell her stories, make up jokes just to see her smile or hear her laugh, despite the fear he himself was feeling.

He was grateful to Tony for freeing him, he  _ was _ , but now he couldn’t protect Morgan.

That didn’t sit right with him.

Peter wasn’t going to let Morgan wait any longer.

“ _ Peter! _ ” Tony hissed suddenly, but it was too late. Peter was already taking advantage of Tony’s loose grip on the rope and he stood suddenly, rushing from the rows of chairs and sprinting up the aisle to where Morgan was waiting onstage, head down.

There was a moment of confusion.

Then, chaos.

Buyers rose from their seats suddenly, yelling. The auctioneer looked up, shocked, and began to herd Morgan offstage.

The panic that entered Peter’s heart was indescribable.

“ _ Morgan! _ ” Peter shouted as he raced to the stage, as guards hurried to intercept him and hold him back. One tightened their grip on his shoulders and the other yanked Peter’s leash backward and he lost his breath, but he didn’t care - because Morgan was looking up at him, meeting his eyes,  _ recognizing  _ him, and it was the most beautiful thing Peter had ever seen.

“Petey!” she cried out, panicking as she was tugged off stage, bound hands reaching for Peter before she was roughly pulled backward.

“Morgan!  _ No! _ ” Peter cried, but it was too late. She had already left the stage.

Peter fell limp in the guards’ arms, body weak from the struggle and his throat in pain from the screaming and tightening rope. His cheeks were wet with tears as the guards grabbed him and turned him sharply. Peter looked up warily and would’ve jumped back, if it wasn’t for the guards holding him.

Tony was pacing down the aisle to meet him, hands clenched into fists at his side, jaw firm and chin angled downward. Fear made its way into Peter’s heart - but not for the two guards holding him, or for the fact that he was in hostile territory.

It was for the man who was storming down the aisle, who Peter could tell was furious, even without being able to see his eyes.

Peter gave a futile attempt to jolt out of the guards’ grasps, but they held him fast, and he was physically unable to tear his eyes away from Tony as the man came to a stop, towering over him.

“He yours?" one of the guards asked gruffly, digging his fingers into Peter’s shoulders. Peter whimpered in pain. “He should be disciplined.”

Tony never once looked away from Peter. “Oh, he will be.”

Terrifyingly, for the first time that day, Peter didn’t believe Tony was acting.


	4. Mistakes and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mini hiatus. I'm on exams, and am currently undergoing a lapse in creativity. It'll probably be an equally long wait for the next chapter, as well. However I may be posting drabbles on my Tumblr in the meantime, @emeraldmoon, so you might want to check that out :)
> 
> And, sorry for that cliffhanger. However I grew up reading Rick Riordian's HOO series, so...

Tony angrily marched Peter back outside, leaving a comfortable amount of slack on the rope, despite the strength with which he was holding it so his knuckles were white. He let Peter climb into the car of his own accord as he settled into the driver's seat, jaw clenched, eyes forward. Silent. Fuming.

Tony drove to a nearby coffee shop parking lot, out of view of the auction house, and brought the car to a stop. He turned to Peter sharply, who kept his eyes down guiltily.

“Come here,” Tony muttered, reached his hands up to the rope around Peter’s neck. He untied it swiftly and tossed it to the floor of the car before moving to the one around his hands. He tugged it free a tad harsher than necessary, and Peter’s eyes followed it as it fell away from his wrists, onto his lap, before Tony leaned back in his chair and just watched Peter for a moment with a scrutinizing gaze.

“What, the  _ hell _ , was that, Peter?” he demanded, voice barely controlled. Peter kept his eyes down, gnawing on his lip as he fought not to flinch. “No, that wasn’t a rhetorical question. I genuinely want to know what led you to break the one rule I gave you: stay by my side, and stay quiet.”

Peter raised his eyes slowly… and Tony was  _ fuming _ . He swallowed thickly. Tony wouldn’t hurt him, right?

“You- you also told me not to take what you said seriously, so, in a way….” he said, voice high-pitched and quiet in attempt of a joke. Tony glowered at him, and Peter’s shoulders began to shake.  _ Not the time _ .

“You think that’s funny?” Peter hurried to shake his head  _ no _ , but Tony was already continuing. “You think it’s funny that you broke the rule I gave you, for  _ your own  _ safety? And you could’ve put me, yourself,  _ and  _ Morgan in danger? You think that’s  _ funny? _ ” Tony’s voice was growing louder, more enraged, and Peter looked up at him suddenly, eyes wide.

“Morgan?”

Tony nodded vigorously. “Yes,  _ Morgan _ . Why do you think I gave you that rule, Peter? Just for shits and giggles? Morgan could be in danger now because of what you did. Who knows if she’ll be punished for it? Now, we may never know!”

Peter shook his head quickly, dropping his head submissively as his voice quieted. “I’m sorry, Sir, I’m so sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Tony scolded, and Peter clamped his lips shut. “I gave you a rule, Peter. I told you to follow that rule. I trusted you to come with me, and you broke that trust! I don’t know what to do now!”

“Don’t bring me back,” Peter begged suddenly, quietly. Tony stilled. “Please, Sir, I-I deserved to be punished, or disciplined, I know I do. I won’t eat or I-I’ll sleep outside, but don’t…  _ please _ , don’t send me back.”

For a moment Tony didn’t answer, and the only sounds in the vehicle were Peter’s muffled sobs from where his head was angled down.

“Peter,” Tony said quietly. The boy didn’t respond. “Peter, I’m sorry-” He reached a hand for his shoulder, but Peter flinched back upon contact. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to yell.” With a sinking feeling in his chest, Tony realized with disdain that he had broken one of the rules he set for himself, not even 24 hours ago.  _ Never, ever raise your voice, especially not with Peter _ .

“Are you okay, Peter?”

Peter sniffled, keeping his head down as he answered. “Y-yes, Sir.”

Tony sighed and leaned forward in his chair, placing his head in his hands.

_ Shit _ .

He moved slowly to put the car in drive, a dull pain growing in his chest. “I’m going to drive us back to the penthouse now,” he managed to say, and he saw Peter nod once. Otherwise, the ride was silent.

Sure, Tony was upset and disappointed that he couldn’t save Morgan, and he was a little frustrated with Peter, but that was no excuse to break the largest rule he had set for himself when regarding the boy. He might’ve just tarnished their entire relationship because of one hot-headed comment, and he wasn’t sure they’d be able to recover it.

Peter sniffled and spoke up. “I’m sorry for failing to obey orders, Sir.”

Tony sighed as he kept his head forward. “It wasn’t an order, Peter, just something I wanted to implement to keep you safe; but thank you for apologizing.” A pause. “And I’m sorry for yelling. I… I overreacted.”

They fell silent once more, Peter not lifting his eyes from his lap until they returned to the parking garage and he stepped shakily out of the car.

In the elevator once more, standing as far apart as the space would allow them to.

Peter waited for Tony in the front hallway of the apartment as Tony locked the door behind them, then turned to face the kid, pulling his sunglasses off but crossing his arms to make up for it in self-preservation. Peter kept his head down, hands at his sides. He took a shaky breath as he waited for Tony to speak.

“I really am sorry, Peter,” Tony apologized once more.

“I-I disobeyed you, Sir,” Peter sniffled. Tony shook his head.

“Maybe so, but I overreacted. I had no right to talk to you that way.” Peter remained quiet, and Tony sighed. “Alright, why don’t you go sit on the couch, find something to watch on t.v. Just… relax for a bit.”

Peter nodded once before turning swiftly to follow orders. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched Peter’s retreating form.

How had he messed up so terribly? How had he  _ failed  _ Peter so easily, so awfully?

Tony trudged over to take a seat at the kitchen table and saw Peter sitting on the couch, spine straight and shoulders back as he kept his eyes trained on some kind of cartoon about a platypus that was a spy. From the limited dialogue he heard Tony thought it was a pretty funny show, but Peter wasn’t reacting, instead sitting still and rigid.

Tony groaned as he dropped his head to rest on the table. This was it. He had failed. He had worked so hard on making Peter comfortable, and none of it was worth it in the end, because he  _ still  _ screwed up.

Tony lifted his head, focused on the patterns in the wood of the table. If he kept worrying about Peter, he realized, he’d never be able to help Morgan, who decidedly needed his help more at the moment.

Tony would have to return to the auction house tomorrow and…  _ buy  _ her, hope no one else had gotten to her first. He’d have to go without Peter, which means he’d need someone to watch him. He wouldn’t leave Peter alone; he worried what the kid might do… or  _ wouldn’t  _ do. Would he know enough to feed himself when needed, or would he keep from moving until Tony returned? Yeah, Tony needed help.

- -

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Steve Rogers?”

“Speaking. Who’s this?”

“Hi, Steve. It’s Tony. Stark. I live in your building.”

Steve’s guarded tone instantly morphed to one of amiability. “Oh, Tony, Hi.” There was a muffled  _ It’s Tony Stark _ from the other end of the line, and Tony figured Steve must be relaying the information to James Barnes. “You’re in the penthouse, right? What can I do for you?”

“Yeah.” Tony chuckled. That was his identity - the mysterious, rich dude in the penthouse. “I’m sorry to have to ask you for this, but I have my… my  _ nephew _ living with me here, but I have some important work to take care of tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d be so inclined as to watch him for a few hours.”

Muffled speaking, then - “Yeah, sure. What time?”

“From noon, for a few hours,” Tony said, surprised they had agreed with such little reluctance. “I’ll pay you for your time, of course-”

“No need,” Steve interrupted. “We’re neighbours. That’s our job, right?” he joked, and Tony made a mental note to send fruit baskets to every tennant in the apartment this Christmas.

- -

The evening passed soberly with Peter watching t.v. and Tony researching the auction house and looking for updates. He brought Peter food at intervals, first a plate of apple slices, then a coldcut sandwich. Peter never left the couch, barely removed his eyes from the t.v. except to say a quiet  _ Thank you, Sir _ when Tony passed him something. Otherwise he was  _ obeying orders _ , refusing to move.

Another apology from Tony, another self-deprecating statement from Peter until it was finally a respectfully decent hour for the kid to sleep.

Tony guided Peter to the bedroom and allowed him to sit on the bed as he brought him a pair of flannel pajamas, placing them on the mattress beside Peter before taking a step back, hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets.

“I’m going back for Morgan tomorrow,” he said quietly. Peter nodded in appreciation, keeping his eyes down. “I invited some people over to keep you company while I’m gone.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat and he stiffened, giving a shaky nod. Tony caught on to his mistake too late and raised his hands quickly, palms forward, in an attempt to soothe Peter and calm him down.

“No, they’re- they’re good people, Peter, I swear. I just didn’t want to leave you alone.” Peter sniffled and seemed to nod despite himself. Tony lowered himself to kneel in front of Peter in order to meet his lowered gaze, trying to remember the limited interactions he’d had with his neighbours.

“There’s two of them coming,” Tony said gently, making eye contact with Peter even as his head was bowed. “They’re boyfriends. They’re… honestly, they do look a little scary, but they’re really nice guys. Steve Rogers, he’s an art teacher. Do you like art, Peter?”

Peter swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “I’ve never tried, Sir.”

“Well, maybe he’ll teach you tomorrow. How does that sound?” A small smile began to grow on Peter’s face, which Tony took as a good sign. “And then there’s James Barnes. He was a soldier in Afghanistan.”

A look of confusion crossed Peter’s face. “Afghanistan, Sir?”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “Afghanistan. You know, the war?”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t. I heard about World War I and II sometimes, but I-I was never taught about any more.”

“Oh,” Tony said quietly. He hadn’t even considered that Peter’s education had been cut short, or maybe even non-existent, because of years spent at auctions. “Well, if you want, maybe he’ll tell you about that, too.”

When Peter gave no response Tony stood, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Well… I’ll leave you to get changed. Again, anything you need, don’t hesitate. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Peter nodded once, eyes down, expression set. Tony didn’t believe his position had shifted in the slightest since he first sat on the bed.

Tony had difficulty sleeping that night. Every time he closed his eyes he was assaulted with Peter’s terrified expression as he was restrained by two men much larger than him, as he watched Tony approach with such fear in his eyes, as Tony heard his own demanding voice echo in his head. He had to force his eyes open before the thoughts, the  _ memories _ , overpowered him.

By the time the morning came, he had barely gotten two hours of sleep.

There was a rocky start to the next morning - and by rocky start, Tony meant, Peter didn’t leave his room.

When Tony himself decided it was an acceptable hour to be awake (it wasn’t like he had been asleep to properly wake), he found Peter sitting upright on the bed with his head down. Tony knocked twice on the doorframe and Peter’s eyes flickered upward slightly, but not high enough to meet Tony’s.

“Good morning, Sir.”

Tony fought back the urge to sigh. This was his fault after all, he realized with a sinking feeling in his chest. He was the one that had screwed up. Everything that happened now, it was all his doing.

“Hey, Peter. Sleep well?”

“Yes. Thank you, Sir.”

This time Tony actually  _ did  _ sigh, stepping backward out of the doorway. “Alright, grab some clothes from the dresser. I’ll make breakfast.”

Though,  _ making breakfast  _ that morning solely meant a bowl of cereal and milk. Tony couldn’t bring himself to make anything more extravagant; his restless night and haunting thoughts forced him into a dreary morning where he barely had the energy to lift the spoon to his lips. Peter sat across from him, having chosen a blue t-shirt with jeans, and sat stiff, eating quietly.

Not a single word was shared.

Tony cleared the table and began to wash the dishes as he, once more, sent Peter to the couch to watch t.v. with a simple, “Steve and James should be here in a few hours.”

Peter nodded his acknowledgement before settling on the couch, lips pinched together and shoulders tensed. Tony finished the dishes and joined him quietly, sitting on the opposite end of the couch as they watched whatever movie was programmed to play on tv, Rise of the Guardians. Tony chuckled a few times, and he thought he saw Peter crack a smile, but those pockets of happiness were gone just as they had come, and all that was left was Tony and Peter, a man and a boy, one damaged and the other capable of making it so.

The movie ended happily like all fictional stories seemed to, and a new show began playing, the same one from yesterday.  _ Phineas and Ferb _ , he learned it was called, about two brothers who built new and exciting inventions in their backyard. Tony got so caught up in the logistics and planning programming for how to get the inventions to work in reality, he was surprised when there was a knock at his door a few episodes in.

Peter looked up at Tony nervously as he stood.

“S’alright,” Tony soothed with a smile as he stepped toward the door. “Just Steve and James, I’d assume.”

Peter settled back on the couch as Tony reached for the door and pulled it open. He was met with Steve and James on the other side, both smiling nervously and standing a tad awkwardly, James with his hands stuffed in his pockets and Steve, with them crossed over his chest. They filled the doorway and towered above Tony, but their faces and anxious stances would remind you they weren’t a threat, if you ignored their enormous builds long enough to pay attention to that.

Tony hoped Peter would be okay with it.

“Hi, guys. Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he greeted, voice shaking a tad. He had never spoken extensively to these men before, and now he was trusting them to enter his home and watch over the person Tony wanted protected most in this world, the one who  _ deserved  _ it most - and probably the one who was most wary of it.

Steve nodded, smiling. “It’s our pleasure.”

Tony nodded before guiding them inside, trusting James to close the door behind them as they proceeded to where Peter was resting on the couch. His head snapped up when they neared, and he stiffened, pushing himself to his feet with wide, startled eyes.

Tony held his hands, palms out, in front of him. “At ease, kid. This is Steve and James.”

James cleared his throat. “Bucky,” he clarified, and Peter managed a small smile.

Steve tapped Tony’s shoulder and he turned, amused to see the man standing behind him, looking like a lost puppy. “A moment?”

Tony followed Steve to the bedroom, leaving Peter watching t.v. and Bucky looking after them, confused. Steve brushed him off with a wave before turning to Tony, brow furrowed.

“What’s his name?”

“Peter.”

Steve nodded before squinting slightly. “And… how old is he?”

“Fifteen, I think,” Tony murmured, looking to where Bucky was becoming intrigued by the t.v. behind him, and passed that, Peter’s rigid frame.

“Not that I don’t want to help, but… fifteen. I’d think he’s old enough to take care of himself, especially in a penthouse, right?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, sighing. “He’s just… very nervous. Tentative. Honestly, I’m a little afraid of what will happen if I leave him alone.” Steve nodded. “So when you look after him today - just, be gentle, please? He’s… he’s been hurt before. He’s very sensitive. He’ll take what you say as an order, and he won’t really be honest, or do anything of his own accord-”

Steve held his hands up, cutting Tony off.

“Tony, I’m sorry… what exactly has this kid been through? I’m happy to help, truly, but maybe we should call someone once you return. A-a child therapist, or something.”

Tony shook his head quickly. “No, he’s… this is something I have to take care of on my own. I- Steve, I saw what they did to him. I can’t let him near any more strangers. When he’s here… I can keep him safe.”

Steve frowned. “They?”

Tony tensed, eyes widening slightly. He had gotten so caught up in… in  _ talking  _ to another person, in expressing his fears for Peter, that he hadn’t realized how much he was exposing about them, their lives. He barely knew Steve. It was nice to talk to someone… but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t trust anyone.

Tony turned sharply, walking quickly from the room and leaving Steve looking after him, mouth agape.

“Thank you for watching Peter,” he said loudly so both Steve and Bucky could hear. Peter remained frozen, watching t.v. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

With that he turned and swiftly left the apartment, leaving no time for questions… or doubts. He could feel Steve and Bucky’s confused eyes on his back, but he didn’t turn to indulge them with answers.

He had saved one kid (if he hadn’t just ruined it). Now, it was time to rescue another.


	5. Revelations

Steve watched Tony leave the apartment, brow furrowed. It wasn’t like he was regretting his decision to watch Peter. He was happy to, really - but his gut told him there was something larger at work here.

A quick glance to Bucky behind him told Steve he wasn’t the only one thinking it. There was something suspicious going on. Why didn’t Tony trust a teenager home alone? Tony had warned Steve that Peter was sensitive… but  _ why? _ And although Steve didn’t know much about Tony, he was positive the man didn’t have many visitors, didn’t spend much time with family. So where had this nephew come from? What was their relationship?

Steve didn’t suspect Tony of anything just yet, but there were definite warning signs of foul play. Steve would just have to investigate on his own.

Steve turned back to Bucky, giving him a small shrug like,  _ I don’t know _ . Then he looked passed Bucky to where Peter was seated on the couch, eyes fixed on the t.v., unmoving. Steve forced back any potential judgement or assumptions that may have risen. When Tony introduced them, and Peter stood stiff as a board… maybe he was just startled. And now he was sitting so still, maybe because he was being shy… or really absorbed in the t.v. show.

“Peter?” Steve asked, taking a cautious step toward the back of the couch. “I’m Steve Rogers. Bucky Barnes is here with me. We’ll be spending time with you for the next hour. Is that alright?”

Steve watched Peter’s shoulders rise and fall in a shuddering breath. “Yes, Sir.”

Steve noticed Bucky’s soldiers stiffen beside him, and Steve thought back to the military training Bucky had told him about, what he had to endure during the war. Steve reached a hand out to gently grip his forearm, and Bucky smiled back appreciatively… but tentatively.

Bucky noticed something else, another warning sign.

At this point, there were just too many.

Steve took a deep breath, forcing a smile on his face as he stepped around the edge of the couch, closer to Peter. “What are you watching?”

Peter was quiet for a moment, eyes never moving from the screen. “I-I don’t know, Sir.”

Steve frowned, debating what to say. He was just beginning to open his mouth when Bucky stepped around him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from speaking. Then he took a seat on Peter’s right, gesturing for Steve to do the same on his left. Steve settled slowly, focusing on the t.v. and the figures with the oddly geometric faces, as Bucky seemed to be doing. His boyfriend didn’t take the lead often, but when he did, Steve knew it was always best to follow.

“How long have you been watching this show for?” Bucky asked, voice so light Steve would’ve assumed it was just the beginning of a friendly conversation.

“All day, I think, Sir.”

“Why haven’t you changed the channel?”

Only then did Peter turn his eyes from the t.v., focused questioningly on Bucky. “Was I supposed to?”

Bucky smiled reassuringly. “No, I’m just wondering.” A pause as Peter resettled back into his position. “Would you say you enjoy this show?”

Peter thought for a moment, and the amount of time it took for him to decide broke Steve’s heart. “I- I think so,” he decided quietly. Bucky hummed thoughtfully.

“Why?”

Peter frowned. “Um, it’s funny… maybe. I think. And….” Peter stopped to think. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “They’re free. Every day, they just… go where they want, do what they want. They don’t have to listen to anybody.”

A chill set into Steve’s bones as he heard Peter’s answer. Those weren’t just words. It wasn’t just a surface response. Peter meant something more…  _ intense _ . Something deeper. Something Steve didn’t yet understand.

Bucky pursued it.

“Peter, do you feel trapped here?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he bolted to his feet, pivoting so he was facing Steve and Bucky - and the panic on his face was clear.

“No!” he shouted, shaking his head so vigorously Steve expected him to collapse from dizziness at any second. “Mr. Stark is great! He’s- he doesn’t- I don’t-” Peter stopped suddenly, sniffling as he dropped his head. “Please… don’t tell Mr. Stark. I’ll be good, I  _ swear  _ I’ll be good, but don’t- don’t tell him-”

Steve leaned forward, craning his neck so Peter’s face was more visible. “Don’t tell him what, Peter?”

Peter looked up, eyes red and glistening with tears. “Don’t tell him I was disobedient.”

Steve’s hand shot across the couch at the same moment Bucky reached for his. They caught each other in the middle, a sign of support, of comfort… and probably the only thing keeping either one grounded.

There were many possible explanations for what it all meant - Tony’s vague answers, Peter’s nervousness, the fact that this child seemed to come from nowhere - but they all led to the same conclusion.

Tony Stark was abusing this child, this child who wasn’t his.

This child who might’ve been kidnapped.

- -

Tony’s fingers nervously tapped his steering wheel as he drove to the auction house. He didn’t blame Peter for what had happened last time; how could he? The poor kid had been through so much. Tony shouldn’t have let him go in the first place. Really, it was his own fault - and so, he had to save Morgan. For her, and for Peter.

For the first time since he discovered these dreadful auctions, driving down the ghastly street that lead to that stone building brought Tony a feeling of unease. He didn’t believe the organizers of the auction, sadistic as they were, would keep him from returning. All they wanted, all they  _ cared  _ about, was money. They didn’t care about what they called  _ merchandise _ , they didn’t care about the- the  _ lives  _ they were ruining,  _ destroying _ , the children they were treating as objects just to make money-

Tony’s knuckles grew white around the steering wheel.

He was going to burn this place to the ground.

Tony parked the car, slamming on the brakes with more force than necessary and grinding his teeth together so tight, he gave himself a headache. He would save Morgan. He would gain back Peter’s trust. Then, he would return for every last child these monsters had taken, and once they were clear, well, he’d take care of them.

But not in a way anyone could prove.

Tony stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him, tugging his suit jacket into place, sunglasses perched high on his nose. His back was rigid, chin held high, eyes taking in everything at a glance without needing to linger. He noticed the security camera poorly hiding above the door, the man positioned beside the car parked in the back of the parking lot… the child in the back seat.

Tony’s hand clenched into a fist at his side, and he lifted his chin, taking a step toward the building.

The clerk eyed Tony suspiciously when he stepped through the doorway. He stared back, unflinching, not once considering taking the sunglasses off, despite the poor lighting of the room.

“Got any of them with you this time?” the woman asked, eyes narrowing. Tony straightened his shoulders.

“ _ Them? _ ”

“Slaves.”

Tony swallowed the bile in his throat and gave her a cold smile. “No.” She looked at him for a second longer before granting him admittance.

Tony’s jaw was firm as he, once again, stepped into the auction house. The chairs perfectly set in rows, facing the stage, like this was a play, like it was for entertainment…. Tony couldn’t keep the scowl off his lips. He settled in his usual spot, in the back row, and waited for the house of horrors to display its main event.

It started soon after, children and teenagers being led on to the stage, sold, bought off. Tony forced himself to look at each and every one. He would be back for them, all of them. He would rescue them all… and then burn this place to the ground.

But right now, he only had eyes for Morgan - and there she was, her head down, dirty, matted hair obscuring her face from view as she was lead onto the stage. Her frame was small, too small to belong on that stage - not like anyone really did - and Tony watched her as she came to a stop in the middle. Her eyes were constantly flitting up, moving around, but she never once lifted her head. The effects of training and punishment, Tony guessed, warring for dominance with the childish curiosity within her.

He noticed men around him begin to straighten in their chairs, and Tony’s stomach began to churn. He’d have to pay a hefty price for Morgan. He didn’t mind, but the reason why made him sick.

He made his bets efficiently - he remained seated, leaning back, raising his hand quickly when the auctioneer called for the next highest bid and remaining level-headed, unlike the men practically jumping out of their seats and yelling increasing numbers. He won, of course, but the dejection on the other men’s faces brought him more disgust than pleasure.

The auction ended and Tony remained in his seat, staring straight ahead at the empty stage as the other bidders passed, giving him strange looks. He ignored them all - he knew he was as much of a mystery to the bidders as he was to the kids. Soon, though, the auction house was cleared, and he proceeded to the back room… where the cages were waiting.

He bypassed “security” and stepped down the hallway passed rows of empty cages, proceeding to one near the end. Morgan was the only one left. A guard stepped forward and handed him the key to the only cage left with something - some _ one _ \- inside. Tony unlocked the cage quickly and handed the key back, before pulling open the door and crouching down.

Morgan sat inside, knees tucked to her chest, wide eyes watching Tony in fear. He gave her a small smile, figuring the suspicion of the employees would be worth the hint of comfort he was providing the girl, and she smiled minutely in return. She’s too young to understand that any other smile in Tony’s place would’ve been ill-intended, he realized with a pain in his heart.

There was a rope tying her hands together, the end of it attached to the bars on the side of the cage. Tony reached for the end and untied it from the bars. Morgan took the cue and began to unfurl herself from the ball she had curled into, slowly inching her way out of the cage, though difficult with her hands bound. Tony waited for her patiently, fighting the urge to say something, to show comfort, with so many enemy eyes on him. Luckily Morgan didn’t need any encouragement, and she stood once outside of the cage, following Tony out.

He walked beside her rather than in front, so she could hold her hands comfortably in front of her and wouldn’t have to strain them forward. Plus, from this vantage, he could better see the people around her, threats. He could better defend her.

Tony led Morgan outside and guided her to his car. She moved without hesitation after Tony, like she was used to this by now. Being so young, Tony assumed it was like she’d been born into the auctions, ending up there from a young age.

Tony opened the door for Morgan and allowed her to crawl into the back seat, dropping the rope to rest in her lap before closing the door and moving silently around to the front seat. He put the car in drive and rolled out of the parking lot, only relaxing when the ominous building faded from sight behind him.

“Hi, Morgan,” he greeted, looking at her in the rearview mirror. “My name’s Tony Stark.”

Tony saw her smile, though she didn’t say a word.

He pulled into the nearby mall parking lot, like he did with Peter not so long ago. He turned off the car and stepped out to pull the back door open, opposite Morgan’s seat. Morgan looked up at him, emotionless, as he smiled and stepped into the car, closing the door behind him. For a moment he sat, smiling at her, waiting for a reaction, something to help him gauge where to begin. She gave him nothing.

Tony gestured to where her hands lay, bound, in her lap. “May I-”

Morgan nodded before he could finish his sentence and she moved her hands - moved them toward her waist, grabbed the waistband of her gray tights, began to tug them down-

Tony jumped forward, wrapping his hands around Morgan’s own, stopping them from continuing further. She looked up at him, confused. It took all the strength Tony had to keep smiling like nothing was wrong and shake his head.

“That’s not what I want from you,” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was going to ask if I could untie your hands.”

Morgan looked unsure but offered her wrists out to Tony anyway. He nodded his thanks and began to work at the knot, blinking back tears as the rope fell away from her wrists. He guided her hands back to her lap when she made no move to pull them away on your own.

“Morgan, I didn’t want to buy you, and I  _ definitely  _ don’t want to own you. See, what I do… I go to auctions like those, and I save kids like you. I’m here to help you escape.”

Still, Morgan said nothing, but her frown deepened, her features twisting in hesitation. She… couldn’t understand Tony. Why? And why wasn’t she saying anything?

“Do you know a boy named Peter?”

Morgan’s demeanor changed instantly. She sat up straighter and her features lit up as she nodded vigorously. Tony couldn't help but smile.

“I saved him, too. Just recently, and he’s waiting at my house right now. Do you want to go see him?”

Morgan’s face lit up with a smile, and that was all the confirmation Tony needed. “All right,” he chuckled, reaching to open the door behind him. “Let’s go bring you home.”

Tony didn’t want to think about how trusting Morgan was, how easy it was for her to rely on Tony to be a good man, to be telling the truth.

He didn’t want to think about how often she’d been wrong in her assumptions in the past.

Though, Tony was saved by the thoughts as he began to pull out of the parking lot. His phone rang, caller ID displaying the name,  _ James Rhodes.  _ He picked up and put the call on speaker, giving a quick glance to Morgan, who was staring absentmindedly out the window.

“Rhodey,” Tony greeted with a smile.

Rhodes didn’t return the amiable greeting. Actually, he forewent any greeting at all.

“Why did the NYPD just receive a call from a concerned citizen saying you’ve got a kidnapped child at your apartment?”

Tony was lucky the road was empty, or he might’ve accidentally swerved and hit a car. He felt the blood drain from his face.

“What?”

“You’re lucky I picked up the call and not one of the other officers, and that I’ve known you since uni, and I know you wouldn’t actually kidnap a child. Tony, you need to get on top of this, okay? If they call in again, someone else might pick up the call. They won’t ignore it like I’m doing.”

“Who’s  _ they _ ?” Tony demanded, panicked. He couldn’t have something happen to Peter or Morgan for his carelessness.

“I really shouldn’t be telling you this - witness protection, and all that - but if I know our shared neighbour, I know he’ll be pretty adamant about making his findings known to you.” James paused, and Tony’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel in anticipation.

“It was Steve Rogers, Tony.”


	6. Endings, Beginnings

Tony pulled the car to a stop in the parking garage and helped Morgan out of the backseat, taking in all the ways her actions, and reactions, differed from Peter’s. She trusted Tony, even with his limited explanation, which led him to believe she had never been tricked before. No one had tried to exploit her by leading her into a false sense of security. That was good, Tony guessed - it meant Morgan would trust him more easily - but he couldn’t help but think about the horrors that would have arisen if someone  _ had  _ tried to take advantage of her.

He decided it would be better not to think about it.

Morgan didn’t seem to be at all affected by the world around her - the underground parking space, the elevator. Either she had already seen it all… or she was just too young to understand the concept of danger hiding in unknown spaces. Tony wanted nothing more than to rest an arm on her shoulder, to provide her with comfort, but she didn’t seem to be needing it, and he worried what would happen if he touched her while she was unprepared.

The elevator doors opened to a hallway with a single door at the end, Tony’s penthouse. He smiled down at Morgan before leading the way to the door and placing the key in the lock, looking down at her with a soft smile.

“You ready?”

Morgan beamed back. Tony swung the door open.

Tony took a step inside, keeping his hand still at his side. If Morgan wanted to grab it for comfort, that would be her choice - and she did. Tony smiled as he felt her small fingers wrap around his and squeeze. He was glad she felt comfortable.

Tony stepped into the room and was immediately met with two sets of eyes on his, Steve and Bucky’s, hard and unwavering. They stood behind the couch on which Peter was sitting, the kid’s back to him, unmoving. They looked like…  _ bodyguards _ , Tony realized, and it seemed they were aware of it, too. Like they were consciously protecting him.

Both of their arms were crossed, their expressions more hostile than Tony had ever seen them. It sent a chill down his spine. Then, Steve caught sight of Morgan, and his eyes widened, hands clenching into fists. Tony stopped dead in his tracks and made to tighten his grip on Morgan’s hand - something was  _ wrong _ \- when she recognized the boy sitting on the couch.

Morgan squealed, breaking free from Tony’s hold and running toward Peter, toward the couch… toward Steve and Bucky. Tony made a move to reach for her, to stop her before she could encounter danger, when Bucky stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest, holding him back. Tony glared up at him before peering around him to see Morgan leap onto the couch, beside Peter, and he saw Peter brighten like he hadn’t seen yet.

Peter’s spine straightened and he turned to face Morgan, so Tony could see his profile. His eyes were wide, his mouth fixed in an elated grin, and he reached out, scooping Morgan into his arms. He cradled her against his chest as she tightened her tiny hands around his back, and he held her firm. Tony could’ve sworn he saw a single tear making its way down Peter’s cheek.

“Morgan,” Peter whispered, holding her tighter. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He held her for a second longer, and all tensions between Tony, Bucky, and Steve were forgotten as they turned to watch the scene unfolding before them. Peter gently pulled Morgan away from him and set her on the couch at arm’s length. His searching eyes took her in, every bit of her.

“Are you okay?” he asked desperately. Morgan just smiled, beaming. Peter reached a hand forward and cupped her cheek, brow furrowed. “Are you sure? Did anyone…” Tony noticed Peter’s eyes flicker to his, just for a second. Tony’s heart sank to his feet as Peter lowered his voice. “Did  _ Tony _ … hurt you?”

Morgan recoiled as if she’d been slapped. She jumped from the couch and ran, weaving around Bucky, to grab tightly to Tony’s legs. Tony hesitated, only for a moment, before slowly dropping to his knees and hugging her in return. She lay her head on his chest, and Tony raised a hand to support the back of her head amongst the warmth that began to ease its way into his heart.

Peter stepped slowly around the couch, peering down at Tony and Morgan… with curiosity. With confusion. Tony looked back at him, trying to look apologetic, nonthreatening. Peter just took a step back.

Bucky moved forward and kneeled down, tapping Morgan on the back. He smiled as she turned to face him.

“Hi… Morgan?” Morgan nodded. “My name’s Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.” Morgan smiled, but said nothing… which seemed to be normal for her, Tony was beginning to realize. “Morgan, how do you know Tony?”

Confused, Morgan turned to look at Tony, then back at Bucky, as if to say,  _ He’s right here _ .

“Did you know him before today?”

Morgan shook her head decidedly, and Bucky’s expression hardened. He looked up at Steve, and they shared a silent conversation before Bucky reached forward and gently eased Morgan away from Tony. Tony let it happen, confused, though missing the warmth in his chest as Morgan was pulled away from him. (He wondered how he could have gotten attached so easily.)

“Why don’t you go talk with Peter, Morgan?” Bucky continued with a tight smile. He met Tony’s gaze over her head as she hurried toward Peter, burying him in another hug, which he reciprocated half-heartedly. “Steve and I are going to have a conversation with Tony here.”

Tony just frowned up at Bucky, not realizing that Steve was behind him until it was too late, the man grabbing the back of Tony’s collar and hauling him to his feet. Tony turned to him, about to object, when Steve lightly shoved him forward, guiding him to the bedroom. Tony glowered as he obeyed, not without one last look to Peter and Morgan, hugging in the next room - her smiling, in a state of bliss, and Peter’s eyes never once leaving Tony’s, watching wearily.

Tony followed Bucky into the room as Steve closed the door behind him. The second it shut he whirled to face Tony, shoving Tony’s shoulder to the wall and bracing his forearm against Tony’s chest to hold him there. Tony struggled feebly, not attempting to get free - he knew he didn’t stand a chance - and glaring between Steve and Bucky, the people who had seemed so friendly not an hour ago. They glared back.

“Who are you, Tony Stark?” Steve demanded. Tony could only stare back, confused. “Who are you, really? Peter isn’t your nephew, is he? And who is Morgan?”

Tony thought back to what Rhodes had told him, and his expression hardened.

“He  _ is  _ my nephew, and she’s my niece. I just picked her up from ballet lessons. Come on, guys-” He fought against Steve’s hold, but it was unrelenting. He fell back against the wall with a sigh.

Bucky stepped forward, his voice deadly quiet. “Tony, did you kidnap these kids?”

“I-  _ what?  _ How could you even suggest that? Barnes- Rogers, I swear, if you don’t let me go  _ right now _ -”

“So you didn’t kidnap them,” Steve said. “Fine. I believe you. But they’re  _ definitely  _ not your relatives. Poor Peter was on the verge of a panic attack when we inquired about his situation! You’re taking these kids from  _ somewhere _ , Tony, and I demand to know where. I’m not leaving until I’m sure they’re safe…” he leaned closer, “and I’ve dealt with you.”

Tony groaned, looking between Steve and Bucky.

“Are you two serious? You can’t just… just keep to yourself? Stay out of other peoples’ businesses?”

“Not if that business is unlawfully taking children-”

“Oh, what  _ I’m  _ doing is unlawful? You should see what I’m saving them from, Rogers!”

Steve stiffed, brow furrowing as the pressure on Tony’s chest relented, just a tad. “What?”

Tony sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall. He operated alone in this little pasttime he’d created for himself. He never told anyone because they’d get in the way. It would get confusing,  _ dangerous _ \- but now, it didn’t seem he had a choice.

“They were being trafficked,” he said quietly, making direct eye contact. Steve recoiled as Bucky flinched. “My father had a lot of money. As a result, I don’t have to work, so I chose to spend my life doing this. Chasing down auction sites, saving kids. Usually I bring them to orphanages, families, if they have them. Peter… he didn’t. And something was different. Something called me to him, so… so, I brought him here.”

Steve and Bucky were watching him closely, carefully, scrutinizing his every word. Steve’s arm had fallen away from Tony’s chest, and Tony rolled his shoulders back as he continued.

“Peter told me about Morgan, about all the things….” Tony took a breath. “About why people…  _ bought  _ her. About what they made her do.” Tony examined the floor as Steve sucked in a breath and Bucky reached a hand to his forehead, turning away. “I had to go back for her, and that… was today. And now we’re here.”

“And that’s why Peter’s so jumpy?”

Tony kept his eyes on the floor, face turning red. “Well…”

Steve stiffened. “What did you do, Stark?”

“It… I…” Tony squeezed his eyes shut. “I snapped. I yelled at him for something that… that wasn’t really his fault. I overreacted, and now I think he’s afraid to… he’s afraid. He’s  _ terrified _ , and I figured, if I could get Morgan, save her…. Usually I wouldn’t go back to the auction houses so soon after another rescue, but I heard about what Morgan endured, and I just had to get her out. Plus, maybe I could win back Peter’s trust, but… you saw him. He’s traumatized.”

Steve ran a hand across his forehead, sighing. Bucky paced the room just behind him.

“So, what do we do now?” Bucky asked, stepping closer.

Tony’s eyes widened. “ _ We? _ ”

“Yes, Stark,” Steve said. “We. We want to help with something as important as this, and….” He trailed off, and Tony completed his thought with an eyebrow raise.

“And you want to keep an eye on me.”

Steve shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Tony heard the sound of the penthouse door opening and his head snapped up, momentarily making panicked eye contact with Steve, before he ran from the room, frantically searching for an intruder, for signs of danger.

He was met with Peter, his hand on the half-opened door, mid-way through ushering Morgan out. He froze when he saw Tony, eyes wide, face paling. He placed a hand on Morgan’s arm and pulled her to stand behind him, leaving the door open. Morgan moved with uncertainty and a small noise of discomfort.

Tony froze, Steve and Bucky hurrying to stand behind him. For a moment Tony just looked at Peter, confusion on his face, which soon morphed into understanding, and disappointment… with  _ himself _ .

How could he have let his relationship with Peter decline so much to make the boy want to run away?

“What are you doing, Peter?” Tony asked softly, hoping the question came off as gentle and curious as opposed to demanding. He saw Peter swallow thickly, but the boy didn’t respond. “Are you… trying to leave?”

Peter took a step back, pulling Morgan with him. His hand flew off the door and it slammed shut, and Peter jumped at the noise. Tony slowly lifted his hands and brought himself to kneel, to make himself as small, as least threatening, as possible.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, kid. I… I just want to know why.” Still, Peter said nothing. “Do you have somewhere to go? Are you trying to… to find your parents, or something?” Nothing. Tony swallowed thickly. As much as he tried to deny it, he knew what the true reason was. “You don’t feel safe here. With me.”

It was more of a statement than a question. Peter nodded. Tony took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Peter. Truly, I am. I never wanted to hurt you, and I- I really don’t want you to leave. Can we maybe sit down? Talk things out?”

Peter stiffened his shoulders. His voice trembled as he spoke.

“No.”

Tony made an attempt to calm his quickly beating heart. It didn’t work. “You… really want to go.” Peter nodded. Tony sat back on his heels. “Do you have anywhere to go? Somewhere safe, or someone to ask for help?” Peter shook his head hesitantly. “It’s not safe out there, Peter. You’re not-  _ stuck  _ here. Of course you’re not, but I’m reluctant to let you leave because… it’s  _ dangerous _ , Pete. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Peter said nothing, and Tony got the answer to a question he had left unasked.

Peter was going. There was nothing Tony could do to stop him.

“Okay, well… at least take something with you? Some clothes, food from the fridge? Peter-  _ please _ , all I want is your safety. I don’t want you out there alone.”

Peter took another step back, reminding Tony of something else, some _ one _ else.

“Morgan. What about her? Does she want to go with you, too?”

Tony saw the arm Peter had on Morgan’s shoulder tense as she peered around him at the sound of her name. Tony forced a smile.

“Hey, Morgan. Do you- do you want to go with Peter? Do you want to leave, as well?”

Tony waited tersely for her answer. She looked up at Peter, questioning, and he stared down at her, almost pleadingly. Eventually she tore her eyes away from his and back to Tony’s… shaking her head. Immediate relief entered Tony’s heart.

“You- you want to stay with me?” Morgan nodded, and Tony smiled. “You’re free to stay, Morgan. I’ll take care of you, I swear.”

Morgan looked up to Peter. He tightened his grip on her shoulder as she took a slow step forward.

“No,” Tony thought he saw Peter mouth as he shook his head, looking truly distraught. It broke Tony’s heart to tear them apart, but he wouldn’t let Morgan live on the streets. She wouldn’t survive. Of course, in an ideal world he’d keep Peter from leaving, too, but he didn’t expect him to be as easy to convince.

Morgan stepped away from Peter and walked to stand beside Tony. She stood quietly, leaning against him, watching Peter, who stared at her for a moment, silently pleading - before he straightened and his expression hardened. He looked back to Tony.

“Peter, please,” Tony begged. “We can fix this, right? We can make this right. You can stay with Morgan. Wouldn’t that be nice? You can stay together, in this house, and you’ll have food, and clothes, every day. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, and-”

“You scare me.”

And if that didn’t feel like a shot to the heart.

It took everything in Tony to keep from physically flinching as he thought back to the auction house, of seeing Peter run away from him, of the fear that flooded his heart… which was quickly overshadowed by anger. Of the way the guards held Peter in place, of the terrified look on his face as Tony approached.

His wide eyes, his pale skin.

How he feared Tony.

“I didn’t mean to,” Tony whispered, feeling a burn behind his eyes. “Please, Peter. I…  _ I  _ was scared. For your safety, and Morgan’s… but I overreacted. Please, stay. I promise you I’ll never act like that again. I’ll never yell. I swear, Peter, you’ll be  _ safe _ .”

Peter looked carefully at Tony, calculating. His eyes flitted down to Morgan at his side, softening, then up to Steve and Bucky, and Tony was convinced there was hope.

Then, Peter looked back to Tony… and his hands clenched at his side.

“No.”

Tony pinched his lips together. “Okay,” he conceded quietly. “Then… then I won’t stop you.” Tony took a breath. “Be safe, okay? And you… you know you’re always welcome back.”

Peter nodded sharply, looking once more to Morgan. Then, he pulled the penthouse door open, and in a moment, he was gone.

Tony was left staring after the spot Peter once stood, chest heaving. He barely registered the feeling of Morgan pressed against his side. His chest burned, and breathing was difficult.

He felt as though he had just lost a child.

He heard Steve ushering Morgan away with promises of apple slices. He couldn’t bring himself to react. Where would Peter go? Would he be okay? What would happen to him?

A hand on his shoulder jarred Tony from his thoughts. He looked to the side to see Bucky kneeling beside him.

Bucky smiled softly. “Good news is, we don’t believe you’re a kidnapper anymore.”

Tony sniffled, hauling himself to his feet and blinking quickly. “Yeah.”

“Tony. Hey.” Bucky rose to stand behind him and Tony turned to face him. “He’ll be okay.” All Tony could do was nod disbelievingly. “I’m serious. He’ll be fine, because he has  _ you _ , even if you’re not near him. If he’s in trouble, you’ll come running. I know you will.” A pause. “ _ He  _ knows you will.”

Tony nodded. “Thanks, Barnes.” He sniffled and turned to where Steve Rogers was slicing an apple for Morgan as she sat at the table. For now, he had another child to care for.


	7. Not Bad for a Second Chance

Tony took a seat at the kitchen table beside Morgan, smiling warmly at her as she chewed on apple slices Steve had prepared. She looked up as he approached and smiled at him before returning to her food. Steve and Bucky watched warily, standing near the kitchen counters. At a pointed look from Tony, they left to sit on the couch, far enough away that Tony could convince himself that they weren’t listening. (He knew they were.)

“How are you doing, Morgan?” Tony asked softly. She gave a thumbs up, but nothing more. “Do you- do you think you can tell me?” Morgan looked up at him, confused. “Can you… use words?” Morgan frowned, unsure, and Tony sighed.

“Tony?” Bucky called from the couch. Tony turned to him, weary. “You mind if I…?” He gestured to Morgan, and Tony consented, standing from his chair to allow Bucky to take his place. He settled into the role easily, smiling and putting on a more cheery disposition.

“Hey, Morgan.” She smiled at him. “Can I ask you some questions, and you can tell me yes or no?” Morgan began to nod, then stopped, holding up a thumbs up instead and smiling. “Yeah, thumbs up or down. That works. Ready?” Morgan nodded her hand in consent. Bucky smiled. “Okay, great.

“Are you happy to be here?” Thumbs up. Perfect. “Okay. Good. Do you feel safe here?” Thumbs up again. “And what about Peter? Do you feel safe with him?” Another easy yes. “And he asked you to leave with him.” It was more of a statement than a question, but Morgan confirmed it anyway. “But you didn’t want to.” Thumbs down. Bucky looked up at Tony, as if to confirm he was getting the answers. Tony gave him a small, impressed nod, and Steve smiled minutely from where he had moved to stand beside Tony.

Tony stepped forward, and Bucky let him take the lead. “Morgan, do you know why Peter left?” Slowly, Morgan gave a thumbs up. She didn’t seem scared, but… conflicted. Hesitant. Maybe she thought that in sharing with Tony, she’d be betraying Peter. “Did he have family to go to?” No. “Was he trying to find someone else?” No. Tony took a deep breath. “Was it… because of  _ me? _ ” Morgan leaned back in her chair slightly, refusing to answer. Tony pulled out a chair to sit across from her, trying to lower himself closer to her height.

“It’s okay. You can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset,” he comforted her with a weak smile. Slowly, she unfurled herself and lifted a shaky thumbs up. Tony forced himself to keep smiling despite the pain he felt. “Was he… mad?” No. “Scared?”

Thumbs up.

Tony exhaled deeply and dropped his head, taking a few deep breaths. Morgan watched him, eyes sad, almost… compassionate. At least  _ she  _ trusted him.

Bucky took the lead again upon seeing Tony was unable to continue.

“Morgan, you don’t speak?” Thumbs down. “Do you know how?” Thumbs up. “So you choose not to speak.” Morgan looked back at him, confused. “Um, would… do you want to speak?” A slow thumbs up. Bucky forced himself to smooth his crumpled brow, unaware of when the tension had formed in his face. “So… did someone tell you not to?” Yes. Bucky was so intrigued, he forgot to ask yes or no questions. “Who?”

Morgan looked around for a moment, before lifting her finger slowly to point at Tony. Bucky’s eyes widened and Tony lifted his head from his hands, looking horrified.

“When did-” he stuttered, panicked. “I swear I never-”

Morgan shook her head angrily, and Tony fell silent. She jabbed her finger at him a few more times before Steve decided to step in.

“It’s okay, Morgan, you can tell us. You’re allowed to speak. No one will get upset.”

Morgan looked up anxiously, playing with her fingers in her lap. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, slowly gathering the courage to speak, until finally she cleared her throat.

When she spoke her voice was raspy with misuse, but high pitched and…  _ scared _ . It forcefully reminded Tony that she was a  _ child _ .

“Bu-buyers.”

Tony leaned forward slightly. “The people that…  _ bought _ you? They told you not to talk?”

Morgan nodded and looked down, shaken from having to step out of her comfort zone. Tony leaned back in his chair and ran a hand down his face, thinking about what Morgan had to endure, all that she had gone through.

“We’re not like them, Morgan, I promise,” Tony whispered, unable to speak louder. “We will protect you, no matter what, and I want… I want you to do what  _ you  _ want to do. I want you to know you’ll be safe.” He paused, taking a moment to meet Morgan’s wide eyes. “Do you know that, Morgan? Do you feel safe?” She nodded without hesitation, and Tony smiled, attempting to shove back his intrusive thoughts.

_ That’s what Peter thought, too. _

- -

Tony sat on the edge of his bed, staring somewhere passed his bedroom wall, when Steve knocked lightly on the door, startling him out of his thoughts. Tony invited him in, moving half-heartedly to give Steve space to sit.

“Is Morgan alright?” Tony asked. Steve nodded.

“Buck’s sitting with her, teaching her how to use the television.” Steve chuckled. “She’s excited about it.”

“Good.” Tony spoke quietly. “I’m glad she feels safe enough to relax.”

Steve sighed. “Tony, what happened with Peter wasn’t your fault. You tried your hardest. You just… you weren’t equipped to properly work with him-”

“Then you know it  _ was  _ my fault, because I decided to take him in, to  _ help  _ him. I made that bad decision, Steve, and now I just made everything a million times worse.” Tony dropped his head into his hands. Tony took a deep breath.

“I think… maybe Peter didn’t want to be helped. Maybe he wasn’t trying-”

“Oh, he was trying. You should’ve seen him, Steve. He was trying so hard to relearn everything he had been taught since he could  _ speak _ , probably, but he wasn’t even allowed to speak, so that’s a bad analogy-”

Tony groaned, falling back on his bed, holding his hands over his face.

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do for him now, Tony,” Steve said quietly. “I think you just have to move on. You have Morgan here. You don’t want to zone out on her, right?”

“I want to help her, but I failed once before, Steve.”

Steve grabbed Tony’s arm and yanked it from his face, pulling him back to sit upright.

“First of all, stop moaning. It’s very unlike you. Second, you’re the most equipped person I know to… to deal with this, to be working with these kids. If anyone can handle this, it’s  _ you _ . Morgan needs you right now. She chose to stay with you, practically a stranger, but she felt safe enough to do that, to leave Peter, who’s like a brother to her. Prove to her she made the right choice.”

For a minute, all Tony could do was stare at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re really good at that, you know.”

“At what?”

“Rousing speeches.” Steve laughed. “Hm… you’re right. I guess I should-” Tony stopped suddenly when a thought crossed his mind. “Shit. I have to go do something.” He rose from the bed and hurried to the entrance of the bedroom. Steve watched him, confused.

“What?”

“You can watch Morgan, right?” Tony said quickly. “Just for a- a few minutes, probably. Half an hour, tops.”

“I- Tony, where are you  _ going? _ ”

Tony pulled the door to the penthouse open, barely stopping to look back.

“Somewhere.”

The door closed behind him, and all Steve could do was sigh as he watched it fall shut.

Bucky looked away from Morgan, who was happily pressing buttons on the remote as she sat beside him on the couch, and looked behind him to Steve.

“Where’s he going?” Bucky asked, frustrated. He was sympathetic, of course, but Tony had essentially just given him and Steve control of a child under his ward, after knowing the two of them for a day. Steve just sighed and shook his head.

“As if I know.” He walked around the couch and took a seat beside Morgan. “What are you two doing?”

Morgan kicked her feet and pointed excitedly at the remote before pressing a button to change the volume. Steve smiled.

“Can you tell me what you just did, Morgan?”

Morgan looked up at him for a moment, nervous, before continuing. “L-louder.”

Steve smiled. “That’s so cool! Good job!”

Morgan beamed at him, relaxing once more.

Steve watched the t.v. and the rapidly changing channels, allowing his mind to clear of thought. He had learned a lot of information today, first and foremost, that… that  _ human trafficking  _ was still a prominant issue, with children, in  _ his  _ city, no less. He wondered how many children he had seen in his lifetime that had been  _ bought _ . The thought made him sick to his stomach.

And then, he felt a presence at his side.

He looked down, startled, and saw Morgan leaning against him, eyes beginning to droop closed as she continued pressing buttons. The t.v. channels changed from a news report to a cartoon to a station that seemed to play just music, but Steve wasn’t paying attention. He was focused solely on the little girl, currently using him for support.

He lifted his eyes to Bucky’s, who was smiling slightly, but his expression faltered when he took in the horrified look on Steve’s face.

“Hey, Morgan, are you tired?” Morgan just blinked blearily at him, finally putting down the remote. “Yeah? Why don’t we head to bed, huh?”

Morgan sat up, stiff as a rod and eyes wide. Steve flinched at her violent reaction, understanding the truth behind it.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

Bucky was quick to shake his head. “Just to sleep, okay? I promise. You’ll get your own bed, all alone. You’ll be safe. No one can hurt you here.”

Slowly, Morgan nodded her head. Bucky offered her a hand and she took it, walking toward the bedroom. Steve watched Bucky help her onto the bed, then saw her huddle beneath the covers. She looked so small, and Steve had to avert his gaze.

Bucky spoke some quiet words to her, then turned off the lights and exited the room, closing the door shut half-way. He returned to the living room and sat beside Steve, close enough to put his arm around him, turning off the t.v. as he did so.

“What happened?” Bucky whispered as Steve leaned against him.

“She’s really small, Buck. She’s  _ so  _ small. So  _ young _ . This isn’t fair.”

Bucky sighed, running his hand along Steve’s arm. “It’s… shit, it really is awful, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t we call the police?” Steve asked desperately. “Right now. Inform them of this. They can find someone to help Morgan… I don’t know, express herself. They can take a statement, find this damn auction house, and put an end to it all.”

“First, Morgan’s not ready for that,” Bucky murmured. “She may not be for a while. But… why do you think Tony hasn’t told the police yet?”

Steve shrugged. “He’s… not  _ bad _ , right? We’ve established that.”

“Over our very minimal interactions that lasted barely an afternoon? Yes, we’ve established that.” Steve chuckled. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to ask him when he gets back. He should have nothing to hide.”

“Where did he go, anyway?”

“I dunno. What did you guys talk about in the bedroom before he left?”

“He was talking about how this was his fault. Essentially guilt tripping himself.” Steve paused. “So, not bad.”

Bucky pulled Steve closer. “Yeah. I agree. So… you think Morgan’s safe here tonight?”

Steve nodded. “I do. But otherwise… I don’t think we have any other option. Besides calling the police-”

“Which we aren’t doing without knowing Tony’s side of the story.”

As if by fate, the Bucky heard the sound of the lock in the penthouse door and turned to watch Tony enter, an enormous, bright yellow-coloured bean bag chair tucked under one arm. Bucky could only watch as Tony struggled to bring it into the room and lock the door behind him. He froze when he saw who was sitting on the couch.

“Where is she?” he demanded, and Bucky saw his eyes widen.

“In bed,” he hurried to console. “Sleeping. She was tired.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. Not bad. Bucky gestured vaguely to the assaultingly yellow contraption Tony was struggling to hold. 

“Um….”

Tony looked down as if he had forgotten he was holding it. He put it down gently on the floor.

“Bean bag chair. I promised - well, more like made a mental note - to buy one for….” He trailed off as he looked at the bean bag, eyes seeming to lose focus. Bucky shared a look with Steve, who had risen to stand beside him.

“Peter,” Steve finished. Tony nodded.

Steve stepped forward and picked up the bean bag, walking over to the t.v. space and dropping it in front of the couch. Tony followed its movement with his eyes.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” Steve said quietly. “You want bean bag or couch?”

Smiling slightly, Tony gestured to the couch and moved to sit beside where Bucky was settling. Steve dropped back onto the bean bag.

“Is this a therapy session?” Tony asked, smiling slightly.

“No, we’re not equipped for that,” Steve answered, “just like you’re not equipped to take care of these children. Tony, why haven’t you called the cops?”

Tony frowned. “They would stick these kids into an orphanage. They wouldn’t get the care they need.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky countered softly. “The police have more connections. I’m sure they’d be able to support the kids. Plus… isn’t that what you do? You just move them to an orphanage.”

“It’s… the personal connection, I guess,” Tony sighed. “I’d feel better being able to comfort them and provide them with individual support. It pains me when I realize that means other kids will have to wait for longer, but if I  _ do  _ call the police, I’m worried they’ll raid one auction site and… and maybe they won’t be able to save every child. Or maybe workers at that site will warn nearby auctions and… and the kids will be lost. I won’t be able to find, or help, them again. No one will.”

Steve frowned. “Isn’t that a tad irrational?”

“I don’t know, Steve, but I can’t take any chances.” Tony looked down, fiddling with his fingers. “I’ve already lost one kid. I refuse to lose another.”

For a moment no one spoke, contemplating the truth behind Tony’s words and what they should do now. Finally, Steve pushed himself to his feet.

“I guess Buck and I should be heading home.” Bucky nodded as he joined Steve, on his feet. “I hope everything gets resolved, Tony.” Tony just nodded, eyes on the floor. “And… maybe you should give some more thought to calling the police. This is weighing on you; I can see it. The cops are prepared to do more than you think. They’re here to help.”

Tony stood, refusing to answer, guiding Steve and Bucky to the door.

“Thank you for your help today,” he said quietly. They smiled just outside the threshold.

“Take care, Tony,” Steve said.

Bucky nodded. “And if you need us, we’re just downstairs.”

Tony nodded and forced a tight-lipped smile before closing the door, locking it, and resting with his forehead against it, breathing deeply. He squeezed his eyes shut as he forced his haphazard breaths to settle, to no avail. Eventually he turned and settled with his back to the door, dropping to sit against it.

He heard Morgan’s faint breathing from the bedroom, and thought about his life before Peter had come along. Before, when he would save child after child, one at a time. He cared for them, he sympathized with them, but he always lacked that connection which he seemed to feel so deeply now - and it had cost him.

Peter had run away, and now, it seemed he had… something of a  _ daughter _ , or at least, a ward.

He wondered if he should have gotten involved at all.

That was a stupid question. Of  _ course  _ he should have. He had saved so many kids, rescued them from a life of… of  _ slavery _ . Morgan now had a home, as dysfunctional as it was, and Peter… he was able to provide Peter with a few moments of comfort, however fleeting - but it was all becoming too much.

Maybe it was time to contact the police.

- -

Steve and Bucky settled quietly in the elevator as the doors closed behind them and Steve reached for the button that would take them to their floor.

“We’re coming back tomorrow,” Bucky said quietly, eyes straight ahead.

“Obviously,” Steve replied before a minute of silence, the only noise to break it being the ding of the elevator as it passed floor after floor. He shuffled nervously and quieted his voice. “Do you think Peter’s in danger?”

Bucky turned to look at Steve, shoulders set and chin raised, but eyes worried.

“No. If he had the courage to leave Tony, he’ll be able to take care of himself. And, now that Tony’s showed him some kindness, he’ll be able to tell the difference between safe situations and dangerous ones. He’ll… he’ll survive.”

Steve nodded and took a deep breath.

“I hope you’re right.”


	8. Confusion

Peter knew where he needed to escape to from the moment he saw Tony, storming up that auction aisle to meet him. He had always known, really, the location of safety tucked away into his mind until he needed to use it, lying dormant until things went south. His safe house, offered to him years ago. He didn’t have the freedom to utilise it, until Tony, and even then, he didn’t think he’d have the need to.

Wrong on both counts.

Peter took a shaky step out of Tony’s apartment building, fighting the urge to run at the thought of Tony chasing him, or to turn back to a life of surety. Was Tony really being honest? Was his outburst just a one-time mistake, or had he never been safe to begin with? Peter wasn’t sure of anything anymore - he just hoped he remembered the location of the safe house.

He started by reading street signs and setting off in the direction he thought was the right one, avoiding the gazes of strangers, hoping they didn’t ask who he was, where he was going - hoping they didn’t recognize him.

Hoping he remembered the street name correctly, the house number.

Hoping safety still awaited him on the other side of the door.

Peter walked, legs beginning to ache and lungs beginning to burn, not used to so much exercise, so much time outside, so much  _ freedom _ . He had realized that he could turn away now, not return to Tony  _ or  _ arrive at the safehouse, truly be  _ free _ , but he dismissed the thought as soon as it arose. He wouldn’t be able to survive, for one, and two… he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Being in captivity for so long, under the control of someone else, Peter wouldn’t know how to act if left alone. He was nervous just walking, unaccompanied, with no agenda, with no one looking for him and no one to run to. He just wanted to get to the safehouse. He wanted to be ordered around, to be told what to do again.

Soon, the houses began to look familiar, even after all these years.

There was the green dodge caravan that drove by every day and the lavender-painted garage door across the street, the colourful scenes and the sites of… well, of  _ home _ . As close to home anything had ever been, and probably ever would be, for Peter.

He finally found what he was looking for, the safehouse, and stopped at the end of the driveway, checking if anything had changed.

The lawn was still haphazardly mowed, grass cut short, but not in a pattern. Garden gnomes and other decorations lined the path to the front door which was still bordered by Christmas lights, just as Peter remembered.

The Parkers may not have cared about their outwardly appearance, but they more than made up for it in personality.

Peter raised a shaking fist to knock at the front door before he could regret it, standing there anxiously. He tried to remember how long it usually took them to answer the door - would they ignore him? Deny him help? Would it  _ not  _ be them who answered?

The door opened, and there stood May Parker, tucking her long, straight hair behind her ear, eyes curious behind her glasses.

Peter watched her anxiously, heart beating loud in his chest. Would she take him in, like she had promised to years ago? Would she change her mind, realize Peter really wasn’t worth it?

He got his answer when May looked him up and down… and  _ smiled _ .

“Peter,” she greeted, and relief instantly hit Peter like a wave. May would never turn her back on him.

“Ms. Parker.” Peter smiled, but something about it must’ve alerted May. Her expression morphed into one of worry.

“Honey?” She reached a hand for his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Peter nodded quickly. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m better now.”

May guided Peter inside, closing the door behind him. Peter moved on instinct to take off his shoes and walk to the bathroom that was placed adjacent to the front hall to wash his hands, easily remembering the Parker household customs. May remained, leaning against the doorframe, watching him in the mirror with a pleasant smile.

“I didn’t think you would take us up on our offer,” she said as Peter dried his hands. “I held out hope, but after the first year, I figured there wasn’t a chance. I hoped it was because you found someplace better, but I guessed what more likely happened.” She averted her gaze.

Peter stepped into the hallway. “Actually, I found someone like you,” he said with a smile. May’s expression lifted.

“Yeah?”

Peter nodded. “His name’s Tony. He bought me, just to keep me out of danger, and then he went back for Morgan.”

“Morgan… she was the young one you told me about, yeah?” Peter nodded. “And she’s okay.” Again, a nod. “Oh, Peter, that’s great. Here, why don’t you come to the kitchen, I’ll get you a drink.”

Peter followed the familiar route to the kitchen, settling at the round table as May filled him a glass of water and set it before him before settling opposite him.

“Ben’s out working. He’ll be home soon, and- oh, Peter, he’ll be so happy to see you. We’ve been so worried.”

Peter smiled, blinking back tears. “I’m… I’m really happy to be back here.”

May smiled and reached her hand across the table. Peter met her half way.

“Are you okay? How’ve…  _ they  _ been treating you? I really wish we could’ve kept you under our custody for longer, but when someone came, asking  _ specifically  _ after you… we didn’t have enough to outbid him. I’m so sorry.”

Peter fought back a shiver at the memory of Toomes, of everything that had been done to him. Toomes was the worst owner he’d had, conducting experiments, treating Peter like an animal-

Peter had to force his eyes up to May’s, to the woman that had bought him when she accidently stumbled into the auction house and happened to see him on stage, when she bid on him without a moment’s notice, just to get him out of danger, and took him under her care for three whole months. He found solace in her large, brown eyes.

“It wasn’t too bad,” he lied. May smiled in response, and it was worth it. “And Tony was very kind.” Peter would lie a hundred times more.

“Then why’d you leave?”

Peter scrambled to think of a story. “Well, Tony was so nice, he really just… I mean, he told me I was free, and I just always wanted to come back to you.”

May’s brow furrowed. “But you left Morgan.”

Peter shrugged, averting his gaze. “She’ll be safe,” he said quietly. May frowned.

“I know when you’re lying, Peter,” she said quietly. “That’s okay. You’ll tell me when you’re ready, right?”

Peter nodded quickly. “Of course.”  _ Never. Not when it would cause you distress. _

"Okay, so." May clapped her hands together. "Are you staying? For good?"

Peter hesitated.  _ Was  _ he staying? Would Tony be waiting for him? Would Peter be willing to return? Was May truly kind, or would she turn out like Tony?

Peter fought to control his racing thoughts and said the first thing that came to mind.

" _ Yes _ " was what he ended up hearing, and he didn't know if he was glad or disappointed.

May was certainly ecstatic. She reached forward with both hands and latched onto Peter tight. "Oh, I'm so glad, Peter. So glad. We'll take good care of you here, I promise."

Peter just smiled.  _ I know you will _ .

And he was being honest - he trusted May. She, alongside Ben, was his only owner who had ever really treated him right… except, that wasn't exactly true.

There was something bothering Peter, something stuck in the back of his mind, fighting to be acknowledged. Something… some _ one _ . Someone who had shown Peter kindness when he hadn't expected it, who had taken Peter in and helped him without hesitation.

No matter how safe Peter felt with May, no matter how much he trusted her as a result of past experience, something inside Peter's mind just wouldn't let him forget Tony.

Peter was going to have to forget. He was going to have to give it up, because he was safe with May, he knew that for a fact.

But he had been pretty comfortable with Tony, too.

- -

Ben arrived a couple of hours later.

May had brought Peter back into his room from when he had stayed there, walls white and bare and bed perfectly made, awaiting Peter’s personalization, which he had never been comfortable enough to put thought into. Maybe this time, he would  _ (if he stayed for that long) _ .

Peter lay back on the bed, staring up at the white popcorn ceiling that had provided him comfort for three short months two whole years ago, but the reassuring memories that had remained with him since.

He should’ve been happy to be back here, feeling comfortable and safe, but something was holding him back, bringing him discomfort. He tried to fight against it - it made no  _ sense  _ for him to be missing Tony. May and Ben had always treated him better, anyway, and Peter knew that if he left now he would miss them, too.

He just wanted to see Tony again, one more time, to check in on Morgan and make sure she was okay, to see, once and for all, if Tony had  _ really  _ meant to yell at him. Then, he would be able to rest easy with May and Ben… he hoped.

Before he could carry out his plan, he heard the sound of the front door opening. He tensed for a moment, before recognizing the familiarity of it and relaxing back into his old mindset, debating whether Ben would more enjoy having Peter meet him at the door, or going up to Peter’s room himself.

But then, Peter heard the sound of Ben’s voice, and he decided he couldn’t wait another moment to see him.

Peter hurried to the top of the staircase and looked down to see May meeting Ben at the door. He greeted her and was about to move further into the house when she put a hand on his chest. They shared a few words; Ben froze and looked up.

He looked up at  _ Peter _ .

Peter stiffened, suddenly nervous again. Was Ben excited to see him, or would he have preferred Peter not have come?

Ben chuckled, shaking his head.

“I knew you’d come back.”

He dropped his laptop bag to the floor and held his arms open. Peter bounded down the stairs and straight into him, allowing Ben to rub his back gently.

Ben exhaled deeply. “I was so worried,” he said quietly. “ _ We  _ were so worried. Geez, Pete.” He held his arms out, lightly pulling Peter away from him so he could take him all in. “I’m so happy to see you again.”

“And you, Mr. Parker,” Peter responded with a smile. Ben pat him heartily on the shoulder.

“And it’s a good thing you’re here, too. We thought we might be living off burnt food forever. Pete, you’re our only hope.”

Peter laughed as he was led to the kitchen, being told of all the horrendous dishes Ben and May had attempted to create, both individually, and together - and apparently, two brains were definitely  _ not  _ better than one.

As welcome as he felt, as comfortable and safe as he knew he was, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that he  _ didn’t  _ belong - or, more accurately, that he belonged somewhere else.

He chalked it up to having been with Tony most recently - that had to be the only reason why he missed the man so much. Peter thought about how nervous he had been, how he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, how he had never felt comfortable at Tony’s apartment, but with distance, he now realized there was no reason for that. And, he had felt the same way when he first met Ben and May, right?

He would stay with May and Ben for a while. Then, once he was comfortable… he would ask them to take him to see Tony, and he could quench these horrible feelings eating him up inside.

But for now, May was pulling frozen hamburgers out of the freezer, and shoving a pan into Peter’s hands. Ben retreated to the living room and turned on some R&B music. They began to make dinner together - or, rather, Peter made it, and told them when to add on salt, or what to turn the oven to, and even then, they needed some direction. But by the time they were seated around the table, warm food set in front of them, and both of them smiling at Peter with pure joy in their expressions, Peter’s worries faded away.

May told Peter about how she had gotten promoted at her job, but then her boss had made a sexist comment, so she quit. As a result, Ben had boycotted the hospital, and Peter got to hear about every grave injury Ben had happened to get in the last two years, like all the bad luck in his life had been saved for this moment - and then, the bad luck had suddenly come to an end with Peter’s arrival.

For the first time in years, Peter was relaxed, perfectly at ease, only momentarily worried about doing or saying the wrong thing until he remembered who he was with.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

Peter had finished his second burger and was debating whether or not to reach for a third when May leaded forward and placed her hand over where Peter’s was resting on the table. He looked up at her and saw her eyes were soft and comforting, and his heart dropped to his shoes.

“We’ve been really worried about you, Peter,” she started, and Peter noticed Ben watching him, too. “Do you think you can tell us what you’ve been doing these last few years?”

“So you know how to handle me.”

May swallowed thickly. “That’s not what I said-”

“No. It’s what you meant, though. You want to be prepared in case I… freak out, or something. Like last time.”

_ It had been three weeks since the Parkers bought Peter, and he was just beginning to get comfortable with them. He was able to hold small conversations, to walk around the house without fear - he had even smiled a couple of times. _

_ After insisting to make May and Ben dinner on his first day there, they had learned how good of a cook he was (how good of a cook he had been forced to become) and they tried to learn from him, but after quite a few failed attempts, Peter assured them he was okay to do it, and that he understood they weren’t forcing him to. _

_ He was making pasta for dinner, a simple meal, something he had made often before, and May and Ben were conversing lightly at the table behind him. Peter had gotten comfortable -  _ too  _ comfortable - and he knew that, in these situations, in his  _ life _ , that was the worst thing to be. _

_ He filled a measuring cup with water and began to carry it to the pot on the stove, but a drop fell to the floor. He swallowed thickly and hoped May and Ben didn’t see, trying to carefully slide his foot over it and let his sock mop it up, but he slid too far. _

_ He stumbled, and the measuring cup fell. _

_ It shattered at his feet, shards flying in every direction, but he didn’t see them, barely heard them. He was staring down at the floor with wide eyes, shards shining in his peripherals like diamonds, diamonds that could cut. Diamonds that could kill. _

_ He vaguely sensed May and Ben quiet, their conversation coming to a halt. He felt their eyes on him. He refused to look back at them. He had to fix this. Maybe if he moved fast, they wouldn’t be so mad. They wouldn’t hurt him as much. _

_ Peter dropped to his knees immediately, feeling, but barely registering, the glass stabbing his knees, the water seeping into his jeans. _

_ Overshadowing it were the sounds of the kitchen chairs scraping against the floor. _

_ May and Ben. _

_ They were coming. _

_ Peter moved faster, trembling hands moving to collect the glass pieces. They slid through his fingers and cut his hands, but he didn’t stop. He  _ couldn’t  _ stop. _

_ May and Ben hadn’t punished him yet, but these last few weeks had been so great, he didn’t  _ want  _ them to. _

_ He moved faster. _

_ He felt their presence just above him, and his hands trembled so violently they weren’t responding to his brain. Blood began to seep and mix in with the water coating the floor, of the water spreading across the kitchen, and his shoulders began to quiver, and his head bowed deeper as he blinked back tears, but he wouldn’t give up, he couldn’t possibly stop attempting to complete this impossible task, he liked May and Ben, he didn’t want to disappoint them, he didn’t want to  _ leave  _ them- _

_ Peter jumped back when someone touched his hands. He flew back, head hitting the cabinets, and looked into the wide eyes of May Parker, of Ben’s tentative form standing behind her. _

_ Contrasting commands became jumbled in his mind, masters blending together. Was he supposed to remain still, or move to accompany his master’s movements? Move back and be submissive, or move closer for punishment? He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. He could feel the blood draining from his face, his fingers trembling. _

_ May remained still across from him, kneeling, herself, in the puddle of water and glass. Her eyes never left Peter’s, and she was…  _ smiling  _ at him. She looked at ease. Not angry, not frustrated, not disappointed. She said nothing, brown eyes revealing nothing but compassion. Peter found himself entrapped, unable to look away. Slowly, his quivers subsided. _

_ “What happened?” she asked gently, her voice free of any anger or judgement. He felt no trepidation at responding. _

_ “I dropped it,” he whispered. _

_ May just nodded. “That’s okay. We’ll clean it up.” _

_ Peter dropped quickly to his hands, ignoring the fragments that implanted themselves in his skin, along with the pain. “Yes, Ma’am, thank you-” _

_ May brushed her fingers gently atop Peter’s hand. He froze, looking up at her. _

_ “ _ We _ , honey. We’ll clean it up, together.” _

_ “I’m sorry,” he whispered, shoulders sagging. May gripped his hand tighter once she knew he was no longer shaken. _

_ “You don’t have to apologize. There’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Now, how about we go clean up your hands, okay?” _

_ Peter sniffled, dropping his eyes to the floor and gaining the courage to make a request. _

_ “Can- can we do it after?” _

_ “After what, honey?” _

_ “The punishment. If you’ll a-allow me… I’d rather hurt all at once.” _

_ Ben turned away. May didn’t react - her smile remained calm. _

_ “We won’t be inflicting any punishment, Peter.” _

_ “No?” _

_ May shook her head. “No.” _

_ She realized her mistake a day later, when she went to check on Peter the next morning, and found him still asleep. She moved to sit on the edge of his bed as she did every morning and brushed a comforting hand along his forehead, up into his hair. Sometimes it gently woke Peter - at other times, it simply relaxed him in his sleep. _

_ This time, her hand came back, coated in dried blood. _

_ “Peter?” she exclaimed quickly, panicked. Peter woke instantly, sitting sharply upright without any drowsiness, perfected from years of practise. _

_ May merely looked at him with wide eyes, sordid hand held out, suspended between them. Peter looked down at it, seemingly unaffected. May forced her racing heart to settle, her voice to calm. _

_ “Did the glass hit your head last night, Peter?” Peter shook his head, and May’s brow furrowed. He hated when her brow furrowed. It meant she was confused, or frustrated, and she was always so nice to him, he didn’t want her to be. _

_ “Peter.” Her voice was quiet, barely controlled. “Did someone hurt you?” _

_ The only other person in this house was Ben, and Peter was sure Ben would never hurt him. He shook his head determinedly. _

_ “What happened?” May whispered desperately. Peter didn’t want to show her - his masters never liked to see where it happened - but he didn’t want to hurt May, either. Slowly, he rose from the bed. May moved to follow him, supporting her hand gingerly at her side, away from her body. Peter led her to the closet and nudged open the door. _

_ There, hardly hidden behind the three shirts that hung in the closet and the two pairs of pants neatly folded on the floor, there was a dent in the wall, the white paint coated with a pink tinge. _

_ A head-sized dent. _

_ May gasped and stumbled backward. Peter turned sharply, closing the door behind him and bowing his head in apology. He had hurt her. He  _ never  _ wanted to hurt her. She had asked to see, hadn’t she? _

_ “Peter, you did that?” she whispered sharply. Peter nodded. “Why?” _

_ “You said you wouldn’t be inflicting punishment, Ma’am,” he answered, head still bowed and voice matter-of-fact. _

_ “Yes! I said you wouldn’t be punished-” May froze. That  _ hadn’t  _ been what she had said. _

_ Realization crashed down on her. “You thought I wanted you to punish yourself.” _

_ Peter nodded easily, as if there was no issue with this, as if it was the only possible explanation. _

_ May sighed, stepping forward and gently touching her fingers to Peter’s forehead. The wound was small, barely there, and was already beginning to heal. They just had to- to wash out the dried blood. _

_ “How many times have you done that?” _

_ Peter held up four fingers. _

Four _. _

_ Four times in her house, without her knowing. Without her  _ stopping  _ him. _

_ “Never again, Peter,” she begged. “You never do that again. You never deserve punishment - not by my hand, and definitely not by your own, okay?” Peter did nothing. “Peter, do you understand?” _

_ Slowly, Peter nodded. He looked a little confused, but May could deal with confused. It was better than compliance. _

“We’ve been really worried about you, Peter,” she started, and Peter noticed Ben watching him, too. “Do you think you can tell us what you’ve been doing these last few years?”

“So you know how to handle me.”

May swallowed thickly. “That’s not what I said-”

“No. It’s what you meant, though. You want to be prepared in case I… freak out, or something. Like last time.”

May gnawed on her lip. “I want to know if you’re doing anything to harm yourself, maybe something you were taught was normal.”

Peter bit back a grimace and replaced it with a smile. “Nothing too bad.”  _ Except for Toomes, and putting all my trust in Tony, only to be wounded. _

May nodded, but her expression was sad.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “You let me know when you’re ready.”

Peter didn’t think he ever would be.


	9. Worlds Colliding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? J posting on two consecutive days? Impossible.

Morgan was growing well.

She ate comfortably and without hesitation, aside from asking Tony permission for when to begin. She spoke when she wanted to and asked questions when she needed, and she smiled so much, it made Tony wonder how anyone could ever have hurt her.

She trusted Tony, too, freely moving around him, smiling and showing appreciation. Tony couldn’t help but wonder why the contrast was so great between her actions and Peter’s. Maybe it was because she was younger, with less knowledge of the world and what to fear.

Or maybe it was because Tony hadn’t lost himself in a lapse of judgement and a fit of anger and yelled at her.

Tony was going to call the police today, he was sure of it. He couldn’t keep doing this on his own, and he couldn’t bear the thought of those kids being in danger for longer than they had to, just because Tony had his own issues with authority.

He was going to save them, and it was going to happen today.

He set Morgan up with some paper and a pen, telling her to draw whatever she wanted - both to keep her entertained, and to see where she was mentally - and disappeared into the bedroom, phone in hand.

Rhodes picked up on the first ring.

“Tony.”

“Hey, Rhodes.”

“Look, I’m at work. Why are you calling my cell?”

“I had to be sure it would be you who answered. Remember the call you got about the kid at my apartment?”

James sucked in a breath. “I swear, if the next words out of your mouth are a confirmation-”

“Human trafficking.”

Rhodes fell silent, and Tony’s hand trembled as it held the phone to his ear.

“More words, Tony.”

“That’s where I got the kids-”

“Wait, kid _ s? _ ”

“Peter, and Morgan. I bought them to move them out of there. It’s what I do. Kind of like a job, but I don’t get paid.”

Rhodes exhaled deeply. “So you go to these auction sites, save the kids, and don’t report it? Geez, Tony, you know you’re part of the problem.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony groaned, raiding a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I thought it was the right move. Look, can you save them?”

“Take down a human trafficking ring? That’s literally my job.” The relief that crashed over Tony was instant. “I just… I don’t know why you didn’t tell me sooner.”

Tony thought back to Peter, of all the mistakes he had made, of everything that had gone wrong because he refused to ask for help.

“Me, neither.”

- -

Tony gave Rhodes the address of the auction site and every other detail he could remember before hanging up the phone, dropping his head into his hands, and taking a deep breath.

He wondered if this was the right move, if he really would save more kids with the police’s help than if he was working alone.

He looked up when he heard shuffling in the doorway. Morgan was looking up at him, eyes wide with slight anxiety, paper held tight between her slightly trembling hands, the image facing Tony.

Tony smiled at her, and she beamed in response, relaxing.

“Do you want to show me what you drew?”

Morgan ran over to him and held the paper in his face. He looked down at it, and froze.

There were three people on that page, looking like two men and one young girl, all holding hands. Of course, it was messy artwork, so he couldn’t be sure, but he could take a guess as to what the drawing was of.

He asked Morgan anyway.

“You,” she said, pointing to the tallest man in the centre. She shifted her finger over, pointing to the slightly smaller man on the left. “Petey. Me.” She finished with the widely-smiling girl on the right. “You protect us.”

Tony had the breath knocked out of him as he looked down on the drawing, his chest getting tight.

_ Those  _ were Morgan’s thoughts of him? When given the freedom to draw anything in the world, she chose…  _ him _ . Tony, protecting her and Peter.

She had put so much trust in him, and well, Tony couldn’t just let her down.

He dialed Rhodes’ number again.

“Are you bored, or just trying to get on my nerves?”

“I need you to track someone for me.”

“Tony, you know that’s not allowed.”

“ _ Please _ , James,” Tony begged. It must’ve been his first name that did it.

Rhodes sighed. “There needs to be no malicious intent.”

“None,” Tony answered quickly, making eye contact with Morgan as she watched him, wide eyed and curious. He wouldn’t let his kids down.

“Okay. What do you need?”

“A boy left my apartment building at about-” he checked his watch- “four p.m. yesterday. Mid-teen years, brown hair and eyes. I need to know where he went.”

“And what’s your relationship with this boy?”

“It’s Peter.”

“I- the kid you saved?”

“Yeah.”

Rhodes groaned. “Did he leave of his own accord, or did you send him away?”

“It’s complicated-”

“I’m not giving you the location of a boy who may not even want to be with you.”

“Come on, Rhodey, please-”

Tony was interrupted by an incoming call.

“Oh. Hold on-”

“Are you  _ serious _ -”

Tony was already ending his call with Rhodes and accepting the new one, noticing Morgan’s struggles to climb up onto the bed beside him and raising a hand to help guide her.

“Hello?”

“Hi there.” The voice was a woman’s, sounding stern. “Am I speaking with Tony?”

Tony’s spine stiffened. “Yes, and who’s this?”

“My name’s May Parker. Peter came to my house soon after leaving yours.”

Tony’s chest tightened. He stood quickly and began pacing the room, Morgan watching him with wide eyes. Why would Peter go to this  _ May?  _ How did he know her? Was she- was she good? Was she treating him well?

“Is he okay?” Tony asked quickly, panicked.

“He is now, yes. I can’t speak for how he was when he was with you.”

Tony froze. “ _ What? _ ”

“I don’t like you, Tony. From what I managed to put together with Peter’s limited words, you didn’t treat him well.” Tony froze, placing his hand on the door frame to attempt to calm his vertigo. “Still, he trusts you. He wants to see you.”

Tony straightened. “I- yes! Yeah, I’d love to see him-”

“I’m going to give you my address. You will come to my house and stay outside the front door. You will share words with Peter, and he will say whatever he needs to. The moment he’s finished, you’re gone.”

Tony knew he was being bold. He knew he was being given a second chance, and he should be grateful, but he just couldn’t hold his tongue.

“And what if Peter wants me to stay?”

It was a moment before May responded.

“ _ If _ he wants you to stay,” she said quietly, “and that’s a pretty big if, then you may stay. You may come inside for a more in depth discussion, but only if he says. You will listen to him, and respect his wishes, or you can rest assured, I’ll be calling the cops.”

_ Honey, I’m on the other line with the cops. _

But what he said was: “Yes, Ma’am.”

May hung up immediately after giving Tony the address, without saying goodbye.

Tony sighed, switching back to the other line.

“Rhodes?”

“Tony, what the-”

“Nevermind. Goodbye.”

“I swear to-”

Tony hung up the phone, imagining the livid man on the other end, and preparing for a thorough chewing-out later.

For now, he had to go see his kid.

- -

May sat with Peter on the couch as they awaited Tony’s appearance, her hand finding his on the cushion between them. She gently stroked her thumb across the back of his hand as the stared up at the channel Ben had turned on, something about live police missions. No one was paying it any attention.

The doorbell rang.

Peter tensed, and May just squeezed his hand gently before moving to answer the door. Peter followed her on shaky legs, and Ben brought up the rear, waiting behind Peter with tightly-crossed arms. May looked back, giving Peter one, final reassuring smile, before pulling open the door.

The first thing she saw wasn’t the man, but the  _ girl _ , the one clutching a piece of paper in her fists, the one whose face lit up the second she saw Peter.

“ _ Petey! _ ” She ran past May before May had a chance to stop her, not that May wanted to, and barrelled straight into Peter’s legs. Peter immediately bowed to hug her back, but straightened quickly after, his face paling. He refused to meet Tony’s eyes.

“Morgan,” Tony scolded gently, moving to chase after her. May put a hand on his chest and held him back. Tony glared at her, but didn’t continue in his attempts, confident Morgan was safe. He was glad May was being protective over his ki-  _ the  _ kid. He was glad Peter was safe; he just wanted to be able to see him.

“May Parker, I presume?” he greeted, as politely as he could muster. May nodded, before angling her head behind her, bringing Tony’s attention to the man standing inside the house.

“That’s my husband, Ben.” Ben nodded, arms crossed tightly, lips pinched into a thin line. He looked  _ scary _ , and Tony wondered if this was a show for him, or if Ben was always like this around… around  _ Peter _ .

No. Peter wouldn’t have come here if there was any danger; Tony was sure of it.

“I’m going to let you speak to Peter,” May said slowly. “You do anything to upset him, you’re out of here.” Her eyes were determined, boring into Tony’s. Tony tilted his head down slightly in submission and May nodded, impressed, before turning to Peter-

Peter, who was unlike she had ever seen him, who had his head down and his face pale, Morgan clutching his legs and looking up at him worriedly.

May stepped toward him. “Peter?” she said slowly. Peter didn’t respond, and panic entered her heart. “Honey? Can you look at me?”

No reaction.

May heard footsteps from behind her -  _ Tony’s  _ footsteps - but before she could tell him to leave, Peter lifted his head. He lifted his head, to  _ Tony _ .

“Peter?” Tony said quietly. “Hey, buddy.”

“H-Hello, Sir,” Peter whispered. May looked between them worriedly as Ben moved to stand behind her and place a comforting hand on her back.

“I was happy when you called,” Tony continued with a smile. “I was really worried about you. I’m… I’m really glad you’re okay.” He looked sideways to May, gratitude clear on his face. She smiled minisculely in response, and it was then that she realized she had no reason to fear Tony, or to keep him away from Peter. Tony was just like she had been when Peter first came into her custody, and suddenly she realized why Peter had closed in on himself.

He wasn’t as open with Tony as he had grown to be with May and Ben. He was just unfamiliar, not yet comfortable. He just needed time.

May decided to step back and watch how Tony handled this.

“Are you happy here?” Tony asked gently. Peter never once broke eye contact as he nodded. “Do you like being here more than you liked being with me?”

Panic flooded Peter’s face and he looked up to May, who was about to step in when Tony continued.

“That’s okay if you do. I just want you to be happy, and it doesn’t matter where that is.”

Peter took a shaky breath, slowly bringing his eyes back to Tony’s. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Tony soothed with a smile. “You can take your time.”

Peter nodded, trembling. Tony tried a different approach.

“Morgan?” He lay a gentle hand on her back. “Did you miss Peter?”

Morgan nodded quickly and smiled up at Peter. Peter looked down at her, cupping the back of her head with his hand and beaming down at her.

“I missed you, too, Morgan. So much.”

“Why did you leave?”

Peter froze, eyes wide, before dropping slowly to his knees before her. He looked intensely into her eyes.

“Morgan, you….” His face split into a grin. “You’re  _ talking _ .”

Morgan smiled, nodding once. The corners of Tony’s lips turned up behind her, and Peter shifted his gaze to watch the older man. “Did- did you….”

Tony shrugged, bashful. “It was Steve and Bucky, mostly.”

Grateful tears began to form in the corners of Peter’s eyes as he held Tony’s gaze. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, Sir.” Tony just smiled.

“It’s what you both deserve, and more.”

Peter returned his gaze to Morgan, cupping her cheek with his hand.

“I’m sorry I left,” he said quietly. “I….” His eyes flitted to Tony. “I thought I had to leave. I didn’t know what else to do.” He shrugged, turning his attention fully to Tony, who was smiling softly behind Morgan. “I guess I never knew I could stay.”

Morgan smiled. “Are you coming back?”

Peter’s smile dropped, and he looked back up to May and Ben. They were watching him, May worrying her bottom lip, Ben rubbing her shoulder gently. Then, he shifted his eyes to Tony, who was smiling softly.  _ It’s okay _ , he seemed to be saying.

May and Ben were worried to let Peter stay with Tony, but Peter knew Tony wouldn’t hurt him. On the other hand, he was comfortable with the Parkers. They had been his home for months, the longest home he’d ever had. He had his own room; he could start decorating whenever he’d like.

Peter dropped his eyes from Tony’s guiltily, looking somewhere on the floor between them.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, and watched Morgan’s smile fall from his peripherals. He wished he could console her, but he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to console  _ himself _ .

“Hey, Peter?” May said. Peter turned to meet her eyes, afraid to see disappointment or frustration or  _ anger _ . He only saw compassion, and he didn’t know why he expected anything less. “How would you feel if Tony stayed for dinner tonight?”

Peter looked up at her, hopeful. “Really?”

“Yeah.” May smiled. “I figure we have some stuff to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end! Full disclosure, I will probably complete the final chapter in no time, as I'm currently very motivated (and eager to get this done). However, I will be withholding it for a while. Gotta build suspense, you know? ;)


	10. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so excited for you all to read this <3 Please enjoy!

Tony had offered to help Ben make dinner at the stove as May sat at the table with Peter. Ben was impressed by Tony’s selflessness, and May was just grateful she got time alone with Peter - Peter, who had…  _ changed  _ since he saw Tony.

He watched Morgan sketch beside him at the table with resources May had provided, but his eyes were unfocused. It was like he was looking for a distraction, something safe to sink into and never resurface from.

“Peter?” May asked gently, brushing her fingers against his arm. Peter flinched back, before looking up at her with wide, fearful eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

May smiled and leaned slightly away. “That’s okay,” she assured, watching as Peter exhaled deeply and dropped his head. “Peter, if his presence, if his being here, is bothering you, he’ll be out of here like that. I will personally escort him out that door.”

Peter smiled, but it was feeble, false.

“No, that’s okay.”

May frowned. “I don’t want to push you, but… Peter, you’re allowed to have a say here. You know I’m on your side. Whatever you want to happen, it’ll be done, no questions asked.”

Peter made eye contact with May and smiled.

“I know. Thank you.”

May reached slowly where she knew Peter could see her and gently pat his hand before turning her attention to Morgan. “What’re you drawing there, sweetheart?”

Morgan turned her sheet to face May, smiling proudly. May couldn’t help but smile in return, though she couldn’t decipher what was being depicted.

Peter leaned in closer, a small smile beginning to grace his lips.

“Is that Ms. Parker?” he asked. Morgan nodded, and May’s heart seemed to skip a beat. Peter looked up to her, smiling. “She drew your glasses perfect, Ma’am.”

May smiled as she stood, moving to press a kiss to Morgan’s head. Morgan continued to doodle happily as May continued on to the stove.

She settled against the cabinets, crossing her arms and watching the men work.

“So, where do you work?” Ben asked, a slight bite to his words. Tony didn’t notice, or didn’t seem to care, as he added chopped vegetables to the pan.

“I don’t, actually.”

“You’ve never had a job?” There was intense judgement behind his words that he meant for Tony to hear. To his credit, Tony didn’t react.

“My father was CEO of a weapons company-”

“ _ Weapons? _ ”

Tony sent Ben a warning look before shifting his eyes to where Peter sat behind them.  _ Don’t worry the kids _ . He quieted his voice. “Yes, weapons. I was supposed to inherit the company, but I didn’t want to. I shrank it - one company shouldn’t have all that power to inflict war whenever they wish - and passed the reins to one of my dad’s friends.” Tony began to add salt to the pan, mixing as he spoke effortlessly. “I didn’t need to work with my inheritance, but I tried anyway. Got a temp job in my later teen years, but there was no point in it. If I had the luxury of not needing to work, I figured I might as well do something more productive with my free time - plates?” Ben pointed to the cabinet to Tony’s left. Tony moved to grab five of them, not once stopping his story.

“Anyway, when I was still working at my father’s company, I made some… unsatisfactory contacts. One of them contacted me about these… these auctions.” Tony shook his head, gnawing on his lower lip, the only time he had trouble retelling the story. “I cut off all contact with this person immediately, but from that moment on, I knew what I was going to do. It was my calling, I guess.” He shrugged, beginning to pass May and Ben plates to bring to the table. “I decided I was going to save those kids.”

May and Ben elicited no response as they set the table alongside Tony. Peter sat back in his chair, looking uncomfortable as the adults served him, but he didn’t move to do otherwise. Tony wondered if it was because he was learning to be taken care of, or if he was scared to speak out.

Tony took a seat to the left of Morgan, tapping her paper with a finger. “That looks great, Mo, but why don’t you put it away for a minute while we eat?” Morgan smiled at the praise as she slid the paper down, into her lap.

May moved to sit beside Peter, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “You doing alright?” Peter smiled up at her and nodded once. There was still something guarded about it, but May figured she wouldn’t be getting him to let his walls down anytime soon.

Ben sat between May and Tony, watching the latter with unfaltering intensity. Tony lifted his eyes to Ben’s once, to nod and say,  _ I see you. I respect you.  _ Still, Ben wouldn’t let up.

No one was speaking, nor were they reaching for their food. No one wanted to be the first one to move, to give in - until May caught Tony, leaning in closer to Morgan.

“You can go ahead and eat,” he told her quietly, not willing to disturb the tense silence around the table. “You don’t have to wait for permission.”

Morgan nodded appreciatively and began to eat without hesitation. Tony looked up to May, before shifting his eyes down to Peter. The message was clear -  _ He’s under your care. You have to be the one to comfort him _ .

“Peter, are you waiting for instruction?” Peter looked up at May from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. “You never needed it before. Go ahead, honey.”

The kids began eating, but the adults barely touched their forks. After a few tense minutes, Ben spoke.

“Tony, are you expecting to take Peter back with you?”

Tony looked to Peter, who refused to make eye contact. “I came to see him, because he called. I want to make sure he’s comfortable, and if he’s not, then-”

“What, exactly, do you think we’re doing to him?” Ben exclaimed. No one noticed Peter flinch at the outburst and drop his head lower. “How low do you think of us?”

Tony’s hands clenched on the table and he fought to keep his voice level. “You’re the one who never left me alone since the minute I rang your doorbell. What do you expect me to do, grab Peter and run?”

“Why did he leave you in the first place?” Ben demanded. “I want to know. If you’re as great as you think you are, why’d he come running to us? Why has he been unable to speak, to make eye contact, since you walked in?”

“I’m  _ not  _ like those monsters, don’t you  _ ever  _ accuse me of-”

“And we’re just supposed to take your word for it?”

“ _ Stop! _ ” Peter shouted, his fork clanging loudly against his bowl. He fought to keep his eyes up and his shoulders straight, even as Ben and Tony looked up at him, as Morgan flinched at his outburst. His chest heaved as he fought to control his breathing. He had to speak,  _ now _ , before his frustration faded and he would be left with panic, before the irrational thoughts of punishment overshadowed the logic that no one at this table would hurt him.

Peter shifted his gaze to Ben, who looked angrier than Peter had ever seen him. Peter fought to make eye contact. He knew the anger wasn’t directed at him, but it was terrifying nonetheless.

“I-I want to talk to… to Mr. Stark.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“ _ No. _ ”

“Ben,” May scolded, but Ben shook his head.

“I won’t let him be alone with Tony.”

“Tony won’t do anything-”

“We don’t know that!”

“Mr. Parker,” Peter interrupted, his voice quieter and trembling. His anger was fading.

Ben looked up at Peter, and his eyes softened. He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he finally said. Peter nodded gratefully and moved to stand. Tony began to follow, but Ben grabbed his arm.

“You do anything, you even think about  _ trying  _ anything….” Ben didn’t finish his sentence, and Tony didn’t try to reason with him. Of course he wouldn’t do anything to harm Peter, but he didn’t want to spend time arguing; he wanted Ben to know he respected his authority, and he took this seriously.

Ben released Tony’s arm and he nodded once before turning to see Peter, stepping nervously out of the room. He turned to follow, not before gently brushing his fingers atop Morgan’s head in comfort, and smiling appreciatively to May. Then, he followed Peter out of the room.

Peter led him just down the hall to the living room near the front of the house, before coming to a stop in the centre of the room, facing the far wall. Tony stopped just inside the doorway, taking in Peter’s quivering shoulders and his nervous breaths. He didn’t want to get any closer than he needed to; the last thing he wanted would be to make Peter uncomfortable.

“I-I’m sorry I left, Sir,” Peter whispered.

“That’s okay,” Tony soothed. “You didn’t feel comfortable. I’m glad you were brave enough to leave, and to- to find somewhere better.”  _ As much as it killed me _ .

Peter took a deep breath, slowly lifting his head - a sign of bravery and courage, despite the fact that he was still facing the far wall.

“I-” He stopped suddenly. Tony waited silently. “I’m not scared of you.” Tony didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. “I promise you, Sir, I’m not. I was just… nervous.”

“Because I yelled?”

Peter shook his head, turning slowly until he was facing Tony. The eye contact was uncomfortable, Tony could tell, and he could almost see Peter consciously forcing his eyes away from the ground, up to Tony. He lifted his head to make it harder to look away.

“Because… because no one’s ever treated me with such kindness before,” he whispered. Tony’s brow furrowed.

“But May and Ben….”

Peter opened his mouth and closed it again, looking in the direction of the kitchen, though it wasn’t visible, nor was it within earshot.

“I don’t want them to be mad,” he whispered. Tony shook his head, taking a slow step forward to provide comfort, but remembering to keep his distance.

“They won’t be. It’s just me and you here, Pete. They can’t hear us.”

Peter nodded, still looking at the wall that bordered the kitchen. He took a shaky breath.

“I don’t know if they really…  _ want  _ me,” he said quietly. “I mean, they’re really kind. They always did their best to help me, and to keep me safe, and this is unfair, I shouldn’t be saying it- I’m really sorry, Sir-”

Tony quickly moved forward and placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter looked up at him, eyes rimmed in red.

“You’re doing really good, Peter,” Tony assured him. “Don’t stop. Just… tell me everything you’re feeling. I promise no one will be mad.”

Peter nodded shakily, but determined.

“I think they just… feel bad,” he whispered, not once breaking eye contact. “They mean well, and they’re very nice, but they’re helping me because they just didn’t want to leave me…  _ there _ . They don’t actually  _ want  _ me.” He looked down and cleared his throat. “I don’t think.”

Tony nodded once, trying to keep his face empty of emotion, of bias. He stepped back and pulled his hand from Peter’s shoulder as not to pressure him when he asked his next question.

“And… what do you think of me?”

Peter’s eyes didn’t once leave Tony’s.

“I think… I like being with you. You make me happy. And you yelled at me, but that was my fault. You gave me instructions, and I disobeyed them.” Tony bit his tongue to keep from arguing. At least Peter had called them  _ instructions _ , and not  _ orders _ \- and he had yet to address Tony as  _ Sir _ .

“I think….” He bit his lip nervously. “I think you like-” He stopped. Tony nodded encouragingly. “I think you like having me around- or, you act like it-”

“I do.”

Peter smiled - beamed, actually. “And I think you treat Morgan well, so I- I want to stay with you. Um, if you’ll let me, Sir.”

Tony smiled wide, and Peter grinned nervously.

“Are you sure? I promise you, I won’t be upset if you want to stay with May-”

“I know,” Peter interrupted, and that’s how Tony knew he was serious. “It’s my choice. I want to come home with you, Tony.”

And if that wasn’t the best thing Tony had ever heard.

- -

When they stepped back into the kitchen, Peter had the ghost of a smile on his lips, and he was pressed close enough against Tony that they occasionally bumped shoulders. All Tony came here to see was that Peter was safe, but he’d be lying if he said a secret part of him wasn’t hoping for this, the chance to bring his kid home.

The moment they appeared back in view of Ben and May, the couple seemed to piece together what had happened. A small, sad smile began to form on May’s face, but Ben’s only grew red.

“So, Peter… are you leaving us?” May asked gently.

Peter looked nervously up to Tony for direction. When Tony nodded, he looked back to May.

“I… I think so.”

May stood and walked over to him, holding open her arms. Peter stepped into them slowly, and May pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m glad you chose what was right for you. Of course, I’m sad to see you go… you’ll come back and visit, right?”

Again, Peter looked back up to Tony, who nodded easily. “Of course.”

“Yeah.” Peter smiled. “I’d like that.”

When May stepped out of the way, Tony was met with Ben, and his angry expression.

“Peter,” he said sternly. Tony watched Peter flinch, and he placed a supporting hand on Peter’s back. “You really want to go with Tony? You chose this?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” Peter stuttered. Ben frowned, shifting his gaze to Tony.

“I’m going to need proof you didn’t coerce him into this.”

Tony furrowed his brow. “I’d never-”

Everyone was reminded of Morgan’s presence at that moment when she ran straight for Tony’s legs. “Is Peter staying?” she squealed. Tony grinned as he dropped lightly to his knees in front of her.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Morgan turned to Peter, grabbing onto his hands and beginning to jump. Peter laughed, and the sound was like music to Tony’s ears.

When Ben looked back to Tony, his expression had softened. He held out his hand. Tony rose slowly and accepted it.

“Take care of them,” he said. Tony gripped his hand tighter.

“Always.”

The call came just after.

Tony fished the phone from his pocket and smiled as he read the caller ID, turning to Peter. “I must be popular today, huh?”

Peter smiled as Tony walked down the hallway to take the call.

“Come now, Rhodey, you’re not still mad at me, are you?”

“The raid was successful, Tony.”

Tony froze. “What?”

“The auction house. We acted right away, caught them in the middle of an auction. Everyone participating is in custody, every child saved. We got their record books. We’re going to follow up on everyone mentioned already not in custody, all the children already taken, all their other sites.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief, turning to look behind him at where Peter was brushing a strand of hair behind Morgan’s ear. He couldn’t help but smile.

“If you see a Robert in the records, that’s me, the fake name I used.”

“Will do.” He paused. “Tony, the reason I called… I wanted to invite you and the kids back, to come take a look, if you want. For closure, or something.”

Tony gnawed on his bottom lip. “Uh… okay. I’ll ask them. And, Rhodes?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Tony heard a chuckle from the other end of the line. “Don’t sweat it. It’s my job. But, hey, you ever hang up on me again, I won’t be taking your calls anymore.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t test me, Tony-”

He was hanging up before Rhodes could argue back, smiling.

He stepped back into the kitchen, and Peter beamed up at him as he approached.

“Hey,” Tony greeted. “Everything alright?” Peter nodded quickly. “So, the police found the auction site where you were.” Peter froze, his spine stiffening. “If you want, we can go see it.”

“W-why would I want that, Sir?” Peter stuttered, worried.

“Only if you want to. Maybe to see it in a different light, to get closure, but just if you want. It’s your choice.”

Peter hesitated for a moment, searching Tony’s eyes. He must’ve trusted what he saw there.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I-I want to go.”

- -

Steve called Tony before he could turn the key in the ignition, to drive to the auction site, inquiring after the state of the kids. Tony gave him instructions to meet them at the auction house, and pulled out of the Parker’s driveway.

Tony had seen the auction house many times before, but before it hadn’t been surrounded by yellow tape. The concrete building hadn’t been covered in blue and red lights from police cars.

Now, it was just a regular building. Investigations would be carried out, and then it would become open to the public. A grocery store, an office, something people would drive by every day without knowing the history behind it.

Another hidden truth, another hidden horror.

An officer approached Tony’s door, telling him to turn away, when Rhodes stopped him, moving an orange traffic cone to let Tony through. Tony parked the car before turning to look at his kids.

Morgan was watching the movement outside her window as she kicked her legs, growing so used to seeing this building, she couldn’t understand how important of a moment this was. Peter, on the other hand, had his eyes glued to the concrete walls, his face growing more pale by the second. Tony reached back and gently grabbed his hand.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Peter swallowed thickly before nodding. “I have to.”

Tony climbed out of the car, walking around to guide Morgan out. Peter trailed after him, eyes never once leaving the building.

Tony caught sight of Steve and Bucky standing on the other side of the police tape, scanning the scene with concern. He helped Morgan from her chair and grabbed her hand.

“Morgan, how would you feel about waiting with Steve and Bucky?” Morgan nodded, uninterested, seeming to barely be paying attention. Tony promised Peter he’d be right back, before guiding her over.

Steve watched his approach. “You called the police.”

Tony shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to find some new ways to pass the time.”

“Well, apparently you have kids now.”

Tony laughed. “Speaking of, would you guys mind watching Morgan for a moment?” He looked behind him to where Peter stood, frozen, watching the building like he feared it would attack him. “I’m going to go inside with Peter.”

“Of course.” Steve lifted the police tape to help Morgan under it. She ran straight for their legs, encompassing both Steve’s right leg and Bucky’s left in one hug.

“Uncles!” she squealed, and Bucky chuckled, reaching down to pat her head, as Steve stared incredulously up at Tony.

“Uncles?”

Tony shrugged. “You heard the lady.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, looking behind Tony. “I think you’d better go support your kid,” he told Tony, before reaching down to grab Morgan’s hand. “We’ve got this one.”

“Yeah.” Tony sighed. “Thanks.”

He slowly crossed the parking lot, back over to Peter, who didn’t even look up as he approached.

“Peter?” he said gently. Peter didn’t react. “Are you ready to go in?”

Peter nodded slowly before taking a shaky step forward. He almost collapsed, but Tony caught him, reaching quickly for his arms.

“Lean on me, alright?” Peter nodded, eyes wide, as he put all his weight on Tony. Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders and supported him as they headed toward the door.

The officer waiting there stepped aside the moment she heard their names, pushing the door open as she did so. They stepped forward into the darkness, and the door closed behind them. Peter whimpered, and Tony pulled him closer against his side.

“Shh. You’re alright. Let your eyes adjust.”

Tony waited for Peter’s okay before they continued further.

They entered the auditorium, the once-clean rows now messy as a result of the raid, some chairs turned over and others strewn haphazardly aside. Tony guided Peter over one of the overturned chair’s legs as they reached one of the aisles and turned to face the stage.

Peter sucked in a breath, looking to their left.

“That’s where we sat.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed, following Peter’s line of sight to two chairs on their left, somehow remaining perfectly upright. He subconsciously moved his hand up and down Peter’s shoulder in comfort.

On Peter’s word, they forged on.

Tony guided Peter up the aisle, neither of them saying a word. When they reached the front of the room, Peter stopped, and pushed lightly away from Tony. Tony let him go.

Peter stood for a moment, surveying the room. Then, he pushed himself up onto the stage.

Tony remained on the floor, looking up at Peter as the boy’s eyes drifted across the rows of chairs. He took slow, trembling steps to the centre of the stage, beside where the podium was standing, before lowering himself to his knees and holding his hands behind his back, facing the empty room.

Tony watched him sadly as he performed the ritual, unwilling to interrupt. Peter waited a moment longer before slowly pushing himself back up to his feet and scanning the room once more, before turning sharply and hurrying off stage. Tony froze for only a moment before jumping up onto the raised platform and following the hallway Peter had disappeared into, frantically searching the dark for a sign of the boy. He turned into the hallway and discovered why Peter had run here.

Cages were lining both walls, empty, with their doors open. This was where Peter had been kept.

Tony caught movement, an irregular shape, standing near the cage in the corner.

Peter hadn’t noticed Tony yet, so Tony stood back and watched. Slowly, Peter lowered himself to his hands and knees, and crawled inside the cage. He turned and sat in the centre, crossing his legs and facing the open door. Tony leaned back against the wall, watching as Peter slowly turned his head, looking at the bars that had once contained him, the broken locks that, at a time, wouldn’t let him leave.

Then, his eyes found Tony’s in the darkness. Peter’s eyes were glistening.

Tony stepped forward slowly, crouching down just outside Peter’s cage. “Come on. On your feet.” He offered a hand, and Peter took it.

Tony guided Peter out of the cage and the boy stood, looking back at the bars. He remained frozen, staring, the calm before the storm. Then, he made a noise, a sudden sob, and surged forward.

He pulled back his foot and kicked the cage, hard, the sound echoing through the room. He kicked it again, and again, screaming with each new movement. Tony stood back, watching in agony, letting Peter undergo the catharsis.

“They, took,  _ everything _ , from, me,” he screamed with each kick, before he emitted a sudden noise of pain, and he crumbled to his knees.  _ Broken toe _ , Tony thought in a panic, but he had no time to step in before Peter started using his fists, assaulting the bars.

“Peter,” Tony tried, taking a slow step forward. Peter continued, screaming and crying and hitting and screaming and crying. “ _ Peter _ .” Tony placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and pulled him away from the cage. Peter fought against him, only for a moment, before crumpling back against Tony with a sob.

“It’s okay,” Tony whispered, wrapping his arms around Peter’s shoulders and beginning to rock them gently back and forth. He noticed Peter’s bloody knuckles in the dark, but turned away. He figured the mental scars bore more weight than the physical. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure if his words were being heard over Peter’s sobs, but he said them anyway, because they needed to be said.

Peter turned and buried his face against Tony’s shoulder.

“They stole my life,” Peter cried.

Tony held him closer. “Then let’s make a new one,” he whispered. Peter curled in on himself, leaning closer against Tony.

“It hurts, Mr. Stark.”

“Your foot? Your hands?”

Peter sniffled. “Everything. Make it stop, Tony, please.”

“I can’t, Piccolino*. I’m so sorry. You’ll just have to keep going for me.”

Tony continued to rock them back and forth as Peter’s sobs echoed through the dark room, beginning to quietly hum a tune he later identified as  _ Can’t Help Falling in Love _ . Slowly, eventually, Peter’s sobs subsided, being reduced to a small sniffle.

“Are you okay?” Tony whispered. He felt Peter nod against his chest.

“Thank you.”

“You deserve so much more.” Tony slowly eased himself to his knees, then guided the two of them to their feet. “Hey, guess what?” Peter hummed against his chest. “Your black knitted hat is waiting for you at home.” Peter smiled, and it lit up the room. “And, another surprise.”

Peter pulled away slightly. “What?”

“Well, do you remember when you said you didn’t like the furniture?” Peter nodded uncertainly. “I took your advice. There’s a brand new, bright yellow bean-bag chair waiting for you.”

“Tony, you really didn’t have to-”

“No, but I wanted to.” Tony looked once more to the space around them, hoping he never had to see it again. Then, he looked down to Peter. “Are you ready?”

Peter nodded.

“Let’s go home.”

_ *Piccolino is an Italian term of endearment meaning “little one”. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... that's it! Wow. I really love this chapter. I really love this story, and I hope you all enjoyed it, too.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support throughout the months. I hope you found this ending satisfying. Please comment down below letting me know your favourite part of this story - I'd love to hear it!
> 
> If you enjoy my work, please [consider supporting me on Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/jemeraldmoon). Thanks!


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